


conglomerate

by emissaryarchitect



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: AU, Blood, F/M, Gore, Multi, Predictions, Self Harm, Theories, angst my friends. so much, sinswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7801297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissaryarchitect/pseuds/emissaryarchitect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm going through my stuff and putting my old fics/unposted fics in here as i clean out my files. some are from AU's, some go together, but most of them are unposted fics or really. really damn old fics</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unposted college roommies AU, flaming arrow

“I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Odin eyed her as Ava stepped gingerly over his project on careful toes, striding past paper and drying paints, her hair tossing into her face.

Her hair was clean, free of oily snags and tangles – usually she wouldn’t shower for days. Maggie said she was getting better with her hygiene, but Odin knew.

The faucet was twisted sharply, and soon steam began slipping out the top of the door, humid bubbles forming and gathering hot droplets along the old paint of the bathroom door. Odin listened carefully, head cocked at an angle with his eyes half lidded as Ava’s voice betrayed her.

He could hear hissing between clenched teeth, a slight shuddering breath, just barely.

Sighing, Odin stood up, dropping his paintbrushes into the nearby cup of murky water, and he stepped over his canvas and sat on the couch, waiting. The paints dried – he could mix new ones. Until then, he watched his painting slowly solidify, the colors hardening and the image clearing up enough for him to see a little of what he was originally depicting – he was attempting to paint a campfire.

The assignment was supposed to be a story in a picture. He had wanted to paint fire for a while now, the reds and yellows always mixing together in delightful new shades, flickering and burning. Ava had joked that next to the bag of half empty marsh-mellows he should’ve put in a condom wrapper or a bra, and they had both laughed.

Looking at his painting, he had begun to ruminate how a fire kills itself as it burns, charring the wood underneath and destroying itself into nothing. He had felt a strange chill when he had been painting the blackened wood, slowly feeling the all-consuming burn of the flames.

Eventually, the water stopped, and Ava stepped out of the bathroom. He could see it, vast enflamed patches on her skin, down her throat and gathering over her hands. She was running the water too hot again, just to feel the prickle, just to feel the burn.

It had been harmless enough, at first. It had been better than the alternative, her upper-arms holding scars of her previous tendencies, but she had been doing this too much.

Too often.

“H-Hey,” he implored with a tired smile, gesturing to the seat next to him – Ava had hesitated, before gliding over to where he was seated. “Wh-What do you th-think, so far?”

She was standing next to him, leaned over, eyes traveling the canvas surface with pursed lips. The collar to her over-sized tee was slipping, and he could see her enflamed throat, bright red – would the burns linger this time, he wondered, or would they fade like smoke dispersing in his painting, watercolor grey fading to the white of the unpainted parts.

Water dripped from her hair, and she pulled back. A few droplets landed on the painting, and Odin shrugged it off as Ava glanced to him with worry.

“I think… it needs more black and green. I mean, is it happening in a forest?”

“M-Maybe,” he replied slowly, dragging his gaze back to the painting, rubbing his hands from their cramps “or m-maybe in a d-desert.”

Ava stared for another moment before turning to walk back to her room – the fire hadn’t faded from her skin – Odin reached out a hand and grasped her wrist delicately. The skin was hot, and fiery, _hurting_ –

“What?”

“S-Sit with m-me.”

She sat beside him and he encircled an arm around her hips, pulling her until she was sitting on his lap. Leaning over her from behind, Odin traced his cold fingertips down her skin. He could hear her sharp inhale at the temperature difference, but he didn’t stop, instead pressing his cool palms into her bare thighs.

She leaned her head back against his throat, the damp locks of hair pressing into his skin.

“Are y-you okay?” His question was a breathy whisper, muffled by her hair. His concern was still translated through regardless, in his caressing fingertips and tight grip around her shoulders with his arms.

Ava stopped breathing for a second. He swore he could feel it underneath him, like the swelling of a campfire, ready to bellow violently towards the unpainted night sky, and he glanced down to her.

“I’m tired,” she finally responded, and he watched her fire burn to nothing but cinders as she leaned into him, the red in her skin ebbing to a cooler color. He cupped her, breathing on the flames, keeping them alive, warm, but not too burning –

“N-Next time, I’ll sh-shower with you.”

“You don’t have to,” she replied faintly, a distant and weak rebuttal – Odin laughed a little.

“Y-You act like it w-would be a ch-chore.”

She laughed, breathily, weakly. “Can I stay here, like this, for a while?”

He had to finish this painting.

“Of c-course.”

A campfire well-tended could keep you throughout the night, and Odin had his curled tight on his lap, breathing soft whispers and promises to keep the tired flames alight.

Eventually, she left for bed. He had almost suggested that she sleep out here, on the couch, within his reach – but he swallowed the words down thickly, like sludge in his throat.

She had glanced back at him when he had almost voiced his concerns, and her eyes were so grey, now. He had stopped himself in time, and substituted his worries for a “G-Goodnight…” For him, she smiled and nodded, before closing the door behind her.

In her bed, she stared at her hands.

She could recall twisting the nozzle to the hottest temperature, letting the water slick down her body. She could remember watching her fingers turn red at the tips, and her palms go bright pink as she settled her head underneath the pouring showerhead.

And then, nothing.

For a few blissful moments, she was bathing in heat, and the world was drowned out. She wasn’t alone with her thoughts at all – her mind was between mountain and cloud, soft, alone, quiet – she would stare at her hands and watch the colors redden until the steam was so thick she would choke.

When she would turn the water off, she would touch her stomach with her hands and feel how hot they were. She could almost burn herself with how sharp the contrast in temperature was, and she liked touching her face, and her throat, and her back – she liked feeling the heat, until it finally faded and she was back in her sore and enflamed skin.

Someone would find out. Someone always found out, and she wished they wouldn’t – as far as she was concerned, Odin knew the moment she realized the water could pour out almost boiling.

He knew her too well.

It was frightening. She had never had someone become familiar to her before, to know her and predict her.

So when Odin stopped himself and told her goodnight, she smiled in relief and laid down for a sleepless night. From her room, she could smell the paints Odin was using. They would flood the living room for days, and Maggie would complain about the stench.

Ava liked the smell. Sometimes the scent made her head feel light, and dizzy, as though she was in a hot dust-devil prickling her fingers and lifting her a few inches off the ground, enough to disorient her. She wondered if Odin felt the same, or if he had grown used to the chemicals.

She hadn’t washed her hair when she was in the shower. As she ran her fingers through it, her nails snagged on oily clumps and she frowned.

Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow, I’ll wash, for certain.

-

The next morning, Ava had tiptoed out to find Odin sleeping on the couch. His face was buried in a cushion, and he smelled musky, the scents of the paints muddling in with his own personal smell. She had smiled a little at the campfire he had painted, but stopped.

Next to it, in place of the marsh-mellows, he had painted a bucket of water. It was smudged by the darker paints, and barely visible, but she stared anyway. She tiptoed to the painting to try and touch it, to try and tilt the bucket over and spill out its contents so the fire could burn forever – but that would’ve been foolish. The paint was still drying. It wasn’t real water, and it certainly wasn’t a real fire.

Still, her fingers brushed the painted flames, and she drew back when she imagined the bite of heat at her nails.

“H-How’s it look?”

She isn’t surprised that he woke up. “It looks good. I like it. Why the bucket?”

“In c-case the f-fire b-burns out of hand,” he yawned, rubbing his face and streaking some still-damp paint on his fingers down his cheek. A line of purple slit across his left eye and she giggled before trying to wipe it off.

“No good, it won’t come off.”

“I’ll h-have to wash up,” he leaned up from the couch, stretching, before standing up uncertainly. He stopped when he saw the towel under her arm. “W-Were you ab-about to go shower?”

His words sound worried – _urgent_.

“No,” she lied, and she thrusted the towel into his arms before stalking back to her room and shutting the door, trying not to tremble.

Odin stared at the towel in his hands, before looking back to her closed door and to the shower. Carefully, he entered the bathroom and stripped off his paint-ruined clothes, looking at the smudges across his face and hands.

He twisted the nozzle to the hottest it could go and let the water fall across his chest.

Less than a minute in he was hissing, hands grappling the shower wall with stiff fingers as the heat slithered down his back and chest – how did Ava bear it? _Why_ did she bear it?

He knew why. He didn’t want to ask her. He didn’t want the answer, not from her, not ever.

Tentatively, he looked down at his hands. The heat made his fingertips flush an embarrassing shade of red, almost like a sunburn, and the paints washed across his palms in dark, murky hues. They washed down his wrists, the colors twirling around the drain before vanishing.

He felt lightheaded, and he couldn’t breathe in here. It felt like hot coffin, constricting, choking – he twisted the nozzle to cold and shuddered in relief when the cool water washed over him.

When he was done washing up, he stepped out onto the bathmat. His skin felt tight, and prickly in places. There was still huge patches on his back and down his hands that were too dark, too red – he stared at them with a twist in his mouth before drying and re-dressing.

Ava was sitting in the living-room when he stepped out. She was crouched on the couch, looking at his painting. At the sound of the door opening, she had turned with a tired smile, her legs tucked into her oversized shirt with her revealed toes wiggling.

“Did you get all cleaned up?”

He nodded, approaching her while he rubbed his hair dry with an old towel. She reached out to grab his hand, to pull him down to the couch next to her, for them to sit and laugh and whisper – her fingers brushed his wrist and she pulled back.

“Why are your hands hot?”

“I w-was just sh-showering,” he gestured to the bathroom with a thumb over his shoulder, confused, but she frowned.

“Okay…” she sounded uncertain and scooted aside so he could sit.

They both stared at his painting, and he gathered up the courage to ask “Wh-Why does that b-bother you?”

“I’m just… not used to it, is all.” He could name all the ways he could tell she was lying, from the glance down to her shirt to the way her voice fell low, but he didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he simply leaned over and picked some lint from her hair and tried to smile reassuringly.

“I’m gl-glad you like the p-painting.”

Her eyes softened. “Yes. I do.”

Once again, she reached out, and found he had cooled from the open air – with a little smile she scooted towards him until she was tucked under his arm snugly.

“I like how cool you are,” she murmured, sleepy with the heat from the bathroom. “It’s comforting…”

“Why?”

“You’re always there to put me out,” she had mumbled, eyes half closed.

Odin wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. The comfort was that she relied on him – the thorn in her words was the idea that it would be his actions that would suffocate the fire.

“The bucket is there,” she repeated after a moment “in case the fire burns out of hand.”

She reassured him in the simplest ways.

“N-Nap with me.”

“We just woke up.”

“S-Still,” he pulled her against him until they were chest to chest, and he smiled again, a lop-sided and sheepish expression “I g-get the f-feeling you didn’t sleep much last night.”

She buried her face in his chest and exhaled. Her breath was almost burning against his shirt, the heat flooding to his skin.

“Yeah.”

He watched her breath, the rise and fall of her chest – he watched her fingers pick at the dried paint on his shirt absently, and he asked “Wh-Why… d-do you sh-shower with the w-water so hot?”

She shrugged, but there was a painful wince in her brows he couldn’t miss, even if he wanted to.

“…okay,” he replied. “Th-That’s okay.” He cupped her close and leaned his head back.

She would reveal her motivations to him in time.

He knew her too well.

“…I still think the condom would’ve been the better option.”


	2. betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unposted fic, AU, flaming arrow

Odin hated the smell of this place. _Hated_ it.

Everything was filtered so thoroughly he couldn’t catch even the subtlest scent of dust, and its contrast to his homestead was painful. The whole place glowed with a synthetic blue hum, and he rolled his shoulders to try and loosen up. He was sitting with his hands on his knees, and tried not to flinch when they stepped in.

“You’re here to take me up on my deal, I presume?”

Odin grit his teeth and nodded once, resolutely.

“We’ll exchange your sisters for Ava, but if you don’t deliver neither will we,” Six continued with their acidic voice, scathing in the most liquid way. “If you plan on tricking us, your dear family will pay the price – understand?”

“U-Understood,” Odin snapped, his fingers digging into his knees. “N-Not a f-finger on th-them, g-get it?”

“You have everything at stake here, Arrow,” Six retorted smugly, leaning back against the blue tile wall. “I hardly think you’re in a position to threaten.”

“Y-You h-hurt th-them, I’ll h-have nothing to l-lose,” he replied, and he almost enjoyed the way Six’s expression darkened with irritation. “I’ll t-tell Ava e- _everything_ you’ve been p-planning.”

“Fine; what’ll be your signal to jump in, Arrow? It has to be something Ava won’t recognize.”

Odin looked away, finally. His smile was terribly grim when he replied “Y-You’ll kn-know it wh-when you s-see it.”

XxX

He hadn’t thought Ava was really a good person, at heart – for some reason that made him nervous, and he knew he was a hypocrite because of it. He wasn’t a good person, not at all, yet he still felt entitled to surround his family with only good people, as though that would fix the problems of the past.

Ava was confused, it was obvious. She would radically switch between being shy and timid or absolutely engulfed in her own rage, snarling and attacking people verbally or physically – he knew it must have been because of what happened at TiTAN HQ, but the look on her face whenever she came down from an outburst was painful to look at.

Her expression was always so hateful, so furious and bitter; _self-loathing._

He was well acquainted with that emotion, but to see someone struggling with it so outwardly made him pity her, at first. She may not have been a completely good person, but someone who tries so hard to put themselves back together after being broken must not be all that bad.

It was pity, he told himself when he murmured a joke in her ear while they passed through an alien market. She laughed, and he found her smile was far better than her grimace.

XxX

He hated that he began to grow used to seeing the TiTAN base’s dim glow under the hill, and how the guards would take a glance at him and look away – like he wasn’t a threat. He was leashed by TiTAN because of this deal, and he hated that the guards saw him as another TiTAN dog.

Entering, Six looked up from a significantly contoured map, with various holographic pins over several places. They glanced up, and their eyes crinkled with a concealed smile. “Ah, finally decided to join us?”

“Th-They were r-restless t-tonight,” he muttered, stepping forward.

“Mmm. Anyway, these are the best places to ambush her.”

“Th-There’s n-no g- _good_ place to am-ambush Ava,” Odin snorted. “Sh-She’s built l-like a s-sensory p-porcupine. G-Getting c-close to her is im-impossible.”

“Well,” Six leaned against the table, tapping their pen against its glowing surface “ _you_ got close to her.”

The words felt like hot ash thrown against his face, and he flinched at them. Six seemed satisfied by the reaction and leaned back over the table to keep plotting out potential areas to trap her.

Odin shuffled his feet awkwardly, glancing up to the guard at the door. It was so tempting to just shove them aside and run back into the woods, back to _her_.

“Don’t forget what’s at stake,” Six murmured, sliding something across the table’s surface. Odin looked down at it and felt his stomach clench violently at his realization.

It was Raven’s ribbon.

xXx

“Y-Your hair l-looks b-better up in r-ribbons,” he remarked as Ava twisted one through her fiery locks. She managed to pile the coppery curls in a loose bun, and she looked pleased by his comment.

“Thanks!” She smiled and it was like she was holding the sun in her throat with its brightness. “Raven let me borrow it – I think… she’s warming up to me, a little bit…” Ava’s words trailed off while she spoke, holding her hands to her collarbone as she spoke. She turned to Odin and smiled again, and he realized she was waiting for him to smile back in reply.

He pulled his mouth into a thin line, and she must’ve taken that as a good enough response, because she bounced up out of her seat and left the room.

While he absently pulled out his pipe, it occurred to him that she only smiled like that at him.

xXx

“This location is terrible,” Six noted aloud. “It’s on a hill, where she can see all around, with sparse trees and little bush cover for my soldiers. I’m not planning on another bloodbath, Odin.”

“D-Don’t c-call me that,” he snapped angrily, and Six recoiled from his fierceness.

“Why not? Isn’t it your name, _Odin_?”

“You h-have no r-right to use it.” His voice was more frigid than his home in the dead of winter. Six sighed like an older sibling having to babysit their youngers, and Odin felt the most unpleasant anxiety at that sensation.

“Fine, fine; we need names for the communications line, though, and it would be easier if we had titles of some sort. What am I supposed to call you, then?”

XxX

“H-How about h-handsome?”

“No,” Ava laughed teasingly while she patched her shirt. “I mean, you and your family has so many nicknames for each other! Should I call you something?”

“J-Just Odin is f-fine,” and when he saw her expression drop a little he added hastily “unless you’re p-partial to m-making up y-your own f-for me.”

“I’ve never been very good at names,” Ava admitted softly. “All the characters in my stories have some pretty typical names.”

“H-How about I m-make a n-nickname for y-you, and y-you for me?”

“Alright…” Ava set down her shirt and straightened up a little. “What’s your nickname for me?”

He thought for a long moment – he would need to be friendly to her if she was going to be an ally, right? It might not be pity, but – “I k-know, h-how about f-firefly?” He had called her that once, but she probably didn’t remember.

“Firefly?? That’s so ridiculous!” she smiled and he felt a shiver, her teeth were too sharp – “Then I’ll call you-”

XxX

“-J-Just Arrow is f-fine,” he muttered unhappily.

Six shrugged and looked back over the work they had been doing. “Anything particular about this hill, Odi- … Arrow?”

“Sh-She likes th-that hill. Sh-She relaxes wh-when sh-she’s there.”

“You would know,” Six leered, and Odin stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched over, so that the collar of his coat might cover him up a little.

“Anything in particular happen there? I know moments of sentimentality tend to derail people from the present, and we’ll need the little spitfire as distracted as possible.”

“Anything h-happen?” he echoed.

XxX

“I love the view from up here,” she said aloud, holding her hands above her eyes for shade. “The sunset is so vibrant, and the view is so beautiful!”

Odin nodded in agreement. The setting sun drenched the whole forest in honey hues, gold flares setting fire to the clouds. Creamy pink smudges covered the sky like a blush.

“It’s a g-good view, firefly,” he elbowed her a little and she elbowed him back.

“Hey wolfman?” Odin looked own at her, the nickname silly but sticking – _because you’re so hairy,_ she had snickered – “I think… you’re a good friend.”

He didn’t like this; he was stepping over the boundaries he himself had set up. He was breaching his own protocol. Don’t get to friendly with allies, they wouldn’t always be people you could rely on. They would betray, wouldn’t they?

Ava smiled up at him, glowing and sweet, her edges melting against the sunset.

“I th-think you’re a g-good f-friend too,” he heard himself say, and she looked back to the sunset.

She looked so happy to hear that.

XxX

“It doesn’t matter,” he said listlessly. “Wh-What m-matters is th-that I know you h-have aircraft s-silent enough t-to hover overhead. Sh-She al-always looks t-to the s-sunset, sn-sneak up from b-behind.”

“Likes the view? She has good taste,” Six commented with a slight head bob, as though they were weighing the pros and cons of Ava’s opinions. “It’ll stay like that too, if you fulfill your end of the deal. TiTAN is making an exception – he won’t strip your planet clean of its forests if you manage to deliver the little hellion.”

“Isn’t th-that fantastic,” Odin’s voice was coarse as sandpaper in his distain. “Y-You need me f-for anything else?”

“Yes,” Six replied slowly, looking over their plans. “We need a specific day – we need a date.”

XxX

“I’ve never been on one,” she admitted with her awkward smile, offering the words out with trepidation.

“N-Never l-liked anyone?” he asked, looking up from his journal. She shook her head, her hair following the movement.

“No one ever liked _me_ ,” she replied softly.

He stared at her expression, small and hurt, bitter in the way she braided and unbraided her fingers, and felt a surge of emotion. Warmth and urgency exploded in his gut, and he blurted “We’ll g-go on a d-date sometime.”

She jolted, looking up in surprise. Her brows shot up into her bangs. “What?”

“If I c-can’t ever f-find a d-date and y-you can’t ever f-find a d-d-date, we’ll d-date each other. Deal?” He knew his face was simply ridiculous with how hard he was blushing, but Ava made up for it by practically glowing.

“Deal!”

XxX

“T-Tomorrow.”

“Eager to have your sisters back?”

He looked away, scowling, and Six chuckled. “Fine then – tomorrow at sunset. You’ll be a safe man, Arrow.” He spun around to stalk past the guard, back to the cabin, and he briefly overheard “and a traitor” under Six’s breath.

He was too bitter to disagree.

XxX

“H-Hey f-firefly?” he asked – his hands were sweating so hard; he could feel his stomach coiling like an anxious snake – she looked up from her book. There were bags under her eyes. “D-Do you w-want to c-come watch the s-sunset with me?”

“I need to make a game plan,” she murmured, looking back to Wrathia’s book. She had been memorizing various hexes and spells nonstop for days now. “We still don’t know where TiTAN took your sisters.”

His stomach lurched and he swallowed his gag reflex. “C-Come on, t-take a break. Y-You should always m-make time for s-sunsets.”

She smiled doggedly at him, before shutting the book with a hefty thump and slipping it in her drawer, locking it back within her pact. “Alright.”

Maggie sat in the far corner, and she barked “Come back soon, lovebirds!” and Odin wanted to feel free of this guilt and anxiety to shoot her a pointed look. Instead, he only stalked past, silent as a wraith with Ava following behind him.

They were silent on the way up, but Ava didn’t seem disturbed. Once the hill was in view though, she commented “Hey wolfman, think Gil’s getting any better with his abilities?”

“N-Not at all,” he snickered. “H-He couldn’t m-make a f-fish wet.” Ava stifled a laugh and he felt so forced in his smile.

They made it up the hill, and the sun was setting as planned. The sky was more red than gold this time, the color of poppies and garnets reaching across the horizon like hands cupping the sky lovingly. He looked over at her, his firefly, with the wind pushing through her hair and the smile of contentment on her lips – he knew the only monster here was himself for breaking that single moment of peace she was having.

“H-Hey Ava?” She turned to look up at him, curious since he didn’t call her by her nickname. He reached out, slowly, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. He could see more than feel the heat lurching up her cheeks, the way she flickered gold, and he cupped her cheek tenderly.

They neared each other, closing the distance, and he looked between her eyes before leaning forward and kissing her clumsily, the gesture desperate and crude.

He pulled his hand away from her face and backed up.

She smiled softly, gold still pulsing in her cheeks.

“Oh Odin,” she said, her words collapsing on each other in despair “must you betray me with a kiss?”

Dread exploded behind his eyes as TiTAN heavy cruisers dove upon them from above, dropping soldiers around her in a circle of enemies. Her eyes stayed fixed to his for what felt like the longest second, her sunset eyes filled with grief.

He clutched his chest in a panic, as though his heart would push its way out of his ribcage and try to leap into her palms.

He watched her and she didn’t fight, didn’t bite or scream or curse them to hell and back, and he wanted her to. He wanted her to be angry at him, to hate him and tear him apart for betraying her, but she didn’t. Ava looked away and let her wrists be cuffed, and let herself be led like cattle to a ship.

The whirring of the ships couldn’t drown out his heartbeat in his ears – he saw her expression.

 _Self-loathing._ She was mad at herself – was she chastising herself for not expecting this? Or was she angry she had let someone close?

He couldn’t tell, and the doors of the ship closed her inside, the jaws of the beast snapping shut around her.

“Good job, Arrow,” Six pushed something into his hands – a check for thirty thousand credits, and an envelope. “The letter has the address for your sisters as well as a Deed from TiTAN to leave this planet alone.”

Odin didn’t say anything – couldn’t say anything.

He did the right thing, didn’t he? He saved his family. He saved his planet. He kept his promise to his parents, he kept everyone safe.

He stood until the TiTAN cruisers left with Ava as their prisoner, stood until the sun set completely and left him in utter darkness.

He collapsed onto his knees and crumpled the papers in his hands.

Heartbreak always comes with a kiss.

XxX

Ava had smelled TiTAN’s plastic all over Odin, on his hands and in his breath. She had heard the slow shuffle in the bushes at night, unnaturally frequent, too much to be wildlife. She thought she even caught Six’s scent – synthetic plastic and sweet acid in the air – but she wanted to doubt. She wanted to believe.

She wanted to be proven wrong.

Instead, Odin kissed her goodbye. She heard the cruisers in the sky, pushing out so much sickening energy to keep in the air, enough to make her skin tingle and pull painfully.

She wanted to call him a traitor and a killer, but it was better this way. Ava Ire wasn’t supposed to have friends or lovers; the universe wrote that out in the stars the moment she was born.

She allowed herself to be cuffed and led into a ship, and she waited silently.

It was hours and hours she waited – Ava was good at biding her time. She was not as bitter as her maiden name, and she didn’t think she had it in her to hate Odin. She would never forgive him, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate someone who gave her so many good memories.

They eventually landed on another planet, at another TiTAN base. Six entered her ship and sat across from her, holding a gun aloft to her head.

“Heartbroken, little demon?” they cooed cruelly.

She found her smile. It was buried beneath her rage and fury – TiTAN would always be her first and foremost enemy. “I didn’t think you’d be so _stupid_ ,” she laughed, and it was corrosive, digging through Six’s ears and worming fear into their lungs. They inhaled sharply.

“What do you mean?”

Ava leaned forward until her forehead was touching the barrel of the handgun. “You’ve surrounded a bomb with enemies Six,” they jolted backwards as her skin lit up “and I’m a fuse lit at both ends.”

Her teeth felt sharp and her bones hurt.

It was time to get furious.

XxX

Maggie and Gil left nearly a day ago, and Odin didn’t blame them. He had betrayed Ava, and now he was a mole for the rest of them, too.

He still had bruises from Maggie throwing him across the room, shrieking in anger.

However, he got Crow and Raven home; that was what mattered. His home was safe, and he pinned the deed to the inside of the front door.

Olai came by to check up on the state of his little sisters and saw it on the door.

“Fucking hell Odin, what’d you exchange to those cultists for _this_ shit?”

Odin shrugged and looked to his feet. Olai blinked and went tense.

“…Where’s the freakshows.”

He didn’t answer.

Olai lunged forward and snatched Odin by the collar and shook him, snarling “You handed them over, didn’t you? You piece of shit! You fucking _bastard_!” His fury was evident but Odin couldn’t muster up a single thread of surprise on his end. “We had one goddamn job to do and you fucked us all over! The boss is gonna kill us, you fucking accident!”

Olai dropped him Odin fell to the ground. Before he could sit up Olai kicked him in the ribs, sending his younger brother rolling in pain.

“You _idiot_ ,” he barked before marching himself over to Crow and Raven’s current room. It took Odin several moments to sit up before he saw that Olai was dragging Crow and Raven to his ship outside.

He couldn’t move.

He didn’t want them to _leave_ – but Olai took their sisters away, the ship firing up and shooting back to their main home.

Odin was once again, alone.

He shakily reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe, but he was trembling too badly to light it.

He messed up.

He messed up bad.

If he had told the others the moment Six had approached them – if he told them, everyone could have banded together and rescued them, they could’ve – they might’ve –

But he didn’t.

He tried to stand and leaned against the wall, but he slid against it and hit a nearby coat rack. Olai must’ve broken one of his ribs.

The coat rack toppled to the floor and his jacket fell with it, the credits from Six scattered across the floor with the momentum. Thirty thousand credits – that would’ve been enough to completely fix up the main cabin. That would’ve been enough to buy Magpie’s medicine and pay her debts. It was enough for a lot of things, but forgiveness wasn’t one of them.

He slid his back down the wall and sat against the floor.

_“Looks like you’ve really fucked up now, boy.”_

He looked up. Pedri sat across from him, cross legged and agitated. “H-How’d you g-get that, sh-sherlock?”

_“Make a pact with me.”_

“I’d r-rather die.”

 _“That’s where you’re headed,”_ Pedri said with a snicker. _“You think your alcoholic brother will allow you to come home after what you did? And you’re nothing without your family.”_

Odin looked away and squeezed his hands tight. “N-No.”

 _“You’re pathetic. You have nothing left, and you’re refusing the one way that might get you redemption. I’m disappointed in you, Odin_ ,” Pedri sighed. “ _If there was one thing I thought I knew about you, it was that you would do anything to survive. Now, you have a chance to plea with Ava, and you’re wasting it in a fetid pool of self-loathing.”_

“You’re in no p-position to l-lecture me,” Odin hissed, but Pedri remained neutral.

 _“Really? Because you’re in need of a good lecture.”_ He stood up in a smoky movement, and Pedri put his hand out. “ _Listen, boy – it’s death or me.”_

“M-Making a p-pact with y-you _would_ be d-death,” he sniggered.

_“Then you have nothing to lose.”_

XxX

It had taken approximately eleven hours and ten minutes for Gil and Maggie to locate Ava.

It wasn’t hard – she left a trail of blood wherever she went, and in this case there was a crater where the last headquarters used to be. Gil had suggested they move on, that she was somewhere else, but Maggie insisted that Ava would be waiting for them.

She was there, but she hadn’t expected them to come for her.

Ava was sitting atop a mountain of raw rubble when they found her, and she was stretching as though she just woke up from a nap.

“Oh,” she said in surprise to see them nearing. “I thought-”

“No,” Maggie snapped “Odin didn’t get the chance to turn us over. I saw the ships leaving and when you two didn’t come back I thought they snatched you both, until Odin came in like three hours later.”

“Three hours later?” she echoed in distant thought.

“Yeah, with a pocketful of credits and credentials from the big man himself.” Maggie jabbed a finger towards a half melted TiTAN emblem. “Listen, we need to bail before TiTAN sends some back up.” Maggie glanced down and saw Ava had something squeezed in her palms. “What’s that?”

Ava blinked and opened her hands – it was Six’s chest-plate symbol. “Holy shit,” Maggie whistled “you kill the fuck?”

“I don’t think so,” she said aloud, almost in a dreamy, confused voice. Maggie tapped her finger against it and shrugged.

“Come on, let’s go!”

Ava didn’t think anyone would come back for her – when Maggie took her by the wrist to drag her away, she was snapped from her stupor.

Even in the bedrock of misery, miracles still happened, it seemed.

XxX

XxX

Ava never forgot about Odin. Even in her haze of fire and blood she never forgot the few moments of childlike happiness he gave her.

She wondered if that was pathetic of her, but the responsibility to reclaim Wrathia’s empire did the fan-dance in her sights and she was often distracted from further analysis.

Her army only grew with time, and she began to be known as the burning hydra – you kill ten of her people and twenty would rise to the call of war.

One evening, she had prepared to slaughter another army, but found them dead before she arrived. Curious, but she wasn’t complaining – instead, she climbed up to the highest point and watched the sunset.

Earlier in the week, she had found out the position of the Arrows and decided to drop them a message. Olai was as rash and angry as usual, but Raven dropped an interesting parcel of information –

_“We haven’t heard from Odin since we left him in the cabin, and we haven’t found him anywhere.”_

Ava wondered if he died, looking off at that sunset. Maybe the real danger of that kiss was the kiss of death, and his betrayal killed him more than it killed herself.

She settled her hands on her hips.

Her poor wolfman.

Dogs never did well biting the hands of their masters.

The scent of vanilla and burnt almonds seemed to suffocate her for a moment, and her shoulders sunk. Was it worth the effort of patching a fence to a home you left long ago?

“H-Hello, firefly.”


	3. housefire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unposted+old, i touched up bits and pieces, flaming arrow  
> warnings for animal death

They had been walking through the old, rotted wood of the burned down house. The entire place had gone up in flames years ago, and the woodwork of the building remained, eaten away by the elements until moss grew across the concrete and insects had taken lodge in the brittle foundation.

Olai and him liked to explore there sometimes, when they were younger.

His brother had always been abrasive at best, a bit crude, even around their betters, but he was still family. “A fellow fuck-up of the family tree,” he had said at one point. He was affectionate, in his own way, and that was something Odin understood.

Olai had pushed over a chunk of wood with his foot, and stopped.

“You smell that?”

Odin experimentally sniffed the air. He could smell the cleansing forest, fresh leaves and dew – but iron hung, thick and heavy. He recoiled, and Olai stepped forward, investigating.

Odin had followed shortly after when his brother made a noise of disgust. His brother had his back to him, and stepped closer to something. “Wh-What is it?” When Olai didn’t reply, Odin cautiously approached a dirty looking mound.

A dead doe was heaped over on the ground, mud gathered and hardened around its fur. There was an arrow stuck through its flesh, just behind its shoulder blade – a shot to the heart, almost instant death – but it was an old corpse. Her eyes had been long eaten, but it was still fresh enough that rancid blood pooled through the eye-sockets, making it look as though it had scarlet eyes. Olai leaned down and pulled on one of it hooves, and scoffed. “Stiff. Must be a few days old, but by the smell I think the meat’s been tainted by this point.”

Odin didn’t respond, but stared at the body. It had its head arched back, mouth open slightly, showing flat teeth and bent ears. Odin followed his brother around the other side of the body, finding that the rotten smell wasn’t just from the old house. The doe’s stomach had been torn apart, ragged marks across the hide. It was hollow on the inside.

“She must’ve been gotten by the wolves before the hunter could get her,” Olai rationalized aloud.

Odin squatted down and squinted. By the steady drip of dark, coagulated blood, and the way the hide was still sliding down the ribs, this looked like it had been eaten at recently.

“It l-looks recent,” Odin finally said aloud. “It’s st-still dripping.”

His brother gave him a sharp look, but decided to investigate before agreeing. “Must be some desperate wolf,” he scoffed “really starving to eat something so wretched.”

As though on cue, Odin felt a sharp twist in his stomach and bent over a little. Olai glanced at him peripherally before making a light motion with his hand – they should be heading back.

That would not be the last time Odin visited the old, burnt down house.

The next time was with Raven and Crow. Magpie had wanted to come as well, but she was still so frail – she was asleep before they were out the door.

There was nothing left of the doe, but he still recalled the spot where its body had lain. He didn’t go near it, but the girls, in spite of their circumstances, still had enough energy to go around. They clambered up the trees with a skill that Odin envied – his joints ached, sometimes – and a childlike mirth he knew he lost long ago.

Eventually, it was time to go. The only thing that made this trip more meaningful than the other times they visited was what his demon did.

It was always there, the bastard – but this time, as he was leaving, he saw the lavender mirage flicker a little, and stoop down to where the deer used to be.

Its long fingers pressed against the dirt, before it arched its head to look at Odin, three garnet eyes piercing through the pressing dark of the foliage.

“ _She was slain_.”

Odin didn’t listen for another second. It was one of the few times he could remember the creature speaking, and the three words seemed to follow behind him, making the hairs on his neck prickle and his skin pull.

The next memorable experience at the house was with someone new. Ava had been curious about the forest for awhile now, and Odin decided he could at least take her on a tour to some of the common landmarks, so she could find her way if she was ever lost.

“What’s this?”

“Th-There used to be a h-house h-here,” he explained with the casual wave of his hand “b-but it b-burned d-down a long t-time ago.”

“Oh.” She experimentally pushed on what must have been a remnant of the wooden frame, and it cracked, brittle, before a few bits broke off under her fingertips. “Who used to live here?”

Odin shrugged. “It w-was b-burned down before I w-was born. I d-don’t know.”

She sat on the concrete steps, one of the last parts of the house that had stood the trial of time. “Then why come here?”

“It’s a l-landmark.”

She hummed in reply, before walking around the frame of the house. A few walls remained, but they had been overcome with empty cocoons and still changing chrysalises.

“So you’ve _never_ wondered who used to live here?”

“Wh-Why are you so f-focused on that?” He watched as her fiery hair vanished around a corner, before she went along the length of the wall and he could see her peek from the other side.

They were both framed by tall, damp trees. This forest seemed to be a perpetual fall, cool and grey. Only once in spring would there be a burst of color and warmth, flowers unfurling colorful petals and birds singing loudly through the branches.

Ava looked like a cup of spring in this mixture of cold leaves and damp concrete. She smiled, mouth curling like a bowstring. “It seems strange for everyone to know a thing but know nothing _about_ it.”

“N-Not really,” he muttered, but she only shrugged and continued running the pads of her fingers across the mottled bark of the trees, or stepping delicately onto patches of wet grasses. She seemed enchanted by the forest, an outsider looking in – he liked how carefully she evaluated each step she took, as though hesitant to crush a flower or a snail. It was strange to think that only about a month ago she had slaughtered an entire conference hall of civilians and soldiers.

He pushed the thought delicately from his mind, as though he was easing a disgruntled child back into their seat. There was no need to think about that now, especially as she kept asking questions, keeping him occupied. He almost didn’t notice his demon looming among the trees in the distance, blending into the landscape with its tall stature.

He almost didn’t notice, but he did anyway.

“L-Let’s head back,” he suggested, standing up and brushing off the seat of his pants. Moss really did cling to everything.

Ava followed along, rolling on the balls of her feet a little in a skipping, prancing pace. She looked like she might’ve blended in with some of the local wildlife with the way she walked.

“Do you think sometime we could visit that place again?” He nodded, before she added “Pity what happened to that doe.”

He froze.

“Wh- _What_?” turning to look at her, she was wearing those strange glasses. She wheeled back strangely, ducking her head in a fluid motion as though steeling herself for a blow. “Wh-What… Wh-What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” She flipped the glasses off and held them tightly in her hands, looking down towards the ground. He had the feeling that if she had been barefoot, her toes would’ve dug into the soil. “Nothing at all.”

He had learned that Ava liked to drop conversations. She treated them like hot coal and would only hold onto them until they hurt, and then they would be flung from her presence, leaving hot cinders and burns – in this case, Odin’s chest burned as he repeated “N-No, h-how did you know ab-about the doe? Sh-She died here y-years ago, I w-was just a kid-”

She shuffled her feet nervously, biting her lip. A shiver trickled down his spine and his muscles went rigid, as though he was hunting again and another deer was about to get away. In this forest, she wouldn’t blend in by color but by instinct.

He turned out and bitterly stated “F-Forget it.”

She sucked in a breath as though to say something, but didn’t.

The next time he visited, he went alone, and Ava was already there. She was sitting next to where the doe had died, and she was wearing those strange glasses again – this time, she had her hands outstretched and she was speaking softly, coolly, like river-water over smooth stones.

He couldn’t see a thing.

“Wh-What are you d-doing here?”

Ava turned to him and froze, her joints going stiff. “I – ah – I wanted to see the house...”

He took a step forward, eyes darting around the forest. The burnt wood crunched under his feet, even after all these years of damp moss and rains. There was nothing around for miles, save his ghost. Pedri lingered a little bit away, bored.

“ _Wh-What are you d-doing here_ ,” he repeated darkly, nervous – he licked his lips anxiously and his hands were bunched tightly in his pockets.

“I…” her words faded out and she tore the lenses from her face again, scrambling back a little. “I just wanted to see the _doe_ again.”

“Wh- _What_ doe?” he had been stepping closer, boots sinking into the moss, gathering up around his heels, but he didn’t notice as he stepped across the threshold between them. “Th-The doe is d-dead.”

“She’ still here,” Ava implored, gesturing to her left. “She’s still confused, and I just – I thought I could help her.”

“Y-You c-can’t help s-something if its d- _dead_ ,” Odin replied tightly, still nearing her, watching her scramble backwards. She was scared, but he was confused and frustrated, and when he took another step closer she snarled at him, lashing out with an outstretched hand.

Something sharp bit into his cheek and he backpedaled – Ava was breathing furious breaths, her hand adorned with sickly looking talons, bright red as her skin lit up with her fury and fear. Her pupils were strange again, too, and she looked more like predator than prey as her hands trembled.

“ _Don’t come near me_ ,” she warned, and he could place the feral wrath buried deep within her throat, the way her breathing staggered as she tried to calm down.

Odin wouldn’t confront such a desperate predator, not when he had unintentionally scared her so – he tried to step back and the wood underneath him cracked.

Ava’s expression dropped into panic when the wood fell apart completely and he sunk into darkness, into the house’s basement thought only to be rumor. His ankles hit something sharply and he topped onto shards of glass and called out in pain.

It seemed there were secrets to be had in this burnt out house, and each of them hurt.

“Odin!” He managed to pry his eyes open and spotted Ava leaning over the hole. “Wait a minute, I’ll get you out of there!” She jumped into the hole and he nearly had the sense to call out and stop her, except her skin was so bright the small basement was illuminated when she landed.

The basement was filled with jars, packed tightly. A few he could see were still fresh preserves, others, had gone sour into something fetid and sickly. Luckily, they were packed behind thick glass, and as long as they weren’t busted, no one would be harmed from their contents.

Ava helped Odin ease up and he realized he had crushed several jars during his fall. Carefully, he leaned up and Ava put her hands to her mouth in shock.

“Your shoulder…” he could feel pain, but knew there must’ve been a lovely conglomerate of shards buried in his flesh. His face still stung, and wiping his cheek, he realized Ava’s claws had nicked him hard and blood had begun to drip slowly down his chin from the wound.

“It’s f-fine,” he reassured. “W-Was my own fault anyway.”

Ava helped guide him to where the old stairs used to be, and with their combined strength, they managed to break it open from years of overgrown moss and rot. Odin snatched a jar of good preserves and they had started the slow trek back.

“I… I didn’t mean to lash out at you, like that,” Ava apologized, and he watched her for a moment, recalling her furious red hair pooling around her shoulders and the way she snarled. He could almost imprint his memory of the dead doe across the recent event, and imagine her crouched over the corpse, tearing at the foul flesh.

“D-Don’t w-worry about it,” he replied breathily, looking away.

“Did you know that house had a basement?”

“No,” he looked back at it, all ruined and scarred, burnt to pieces and covered by time “I d-didn’t. Olai m-mentioned it once, but it w-was just a rumor. I d-didn’t know it w-went that deep.”

Ava had looked back too, and he watched her for a moment as she stared at the remains of something comforting, and whole. Her eyes were large, and red, and for a moment he could mistake her flat teeth and hollow eye’s to be the dead doe’s, and he looked back towards the path, trying not to limp.

“I d-didn’t know.”

Without warning, Pedri was behind Ava, and he could spot how the demon ran his fingers through her hair. Odin blinked nervously as his demon repeated the same words as last time.

“ _She was slain_.”

Odin nudged Ava a little. “L-Let’s go. Olai’ll be ec-ecstatic to hear th-that we f-found some f-food preserves.”

Ava followed along on delicate feet and blood red eyes, and he truly wondered if you could help something that was already dead.


	4. confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unposted, roommates AU, short flaming arrow

Ava tiptoed into the living room, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Whenever Odin was done with a project, he would pop in his earbuds and listen to music at full blast, simply relaxing. More often than not it was to completely ignore what everyone else was doing - on more than one occasion, Maggie had to throw something at his head to get his attention when he was like this.

Ava used this to her advantage.

When he had his earbuds in, Odin couldn’t hear a thing.

She leaned against the back of the couch slightly, sighing. “I love the way you draw and write,” she whispered quietly. “I love how you’ll talk for hours on end -  _ to me _ \- about the things you find interesting. I love how you act like I’m someone worth talking to.” 

No response. She fluttered her eyelids, looking at his hair and his slight profile.

“I love the way you act like you’re not a knight when you’re always acting all self-sacrificing around me. I love how you can spot my kind of style, and how you send pictures of flowers to me.”

He shifted in his seat a little and she froze, but he still had his hands on his phone, the screen lighting up his fingertips.

Finally, she whispered hurriedly “I love you a lot, Odin.”

Rubbing her cheeks, Ava departed, rushing back to her room.

Alone, Odin popped out a single silent earbud, staring at the air in shock as a dark blush dusted across his face at her confession.


	5. right hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> old, unposted, flaming arrow - written during highschool. i remember writing this, i was so tired

Odin had never really believed Ava couldn’t die.

It was one of those things that you just say you believe, like telling a child about Saint Nick or nodding when someone you know lies tells you an outrageous story. Out of politeness and maybe the slightest fear of her abilities, he had nodded, looking the other way whenever she mentioned it.

She didn’t mention it often; every time it was as though it was a slip of the tongue, and afterwards she would wring her hands together and look through the nearest window.

However, though Odin didn’t believe she was immortal, she was something else. Olai had been sending him on more missions lately, after Ava had stated with a gravelly and rough snarl that wherever Odin went she would follow. Odin felt it was a little like a baby chick latching onto the first thing that passed by after hatching, except this chick had fierce autonomy and claws sometimes.

He didn’t mind it. Her loyalty was more of a friendship than anything, and he relished that she would go with him - him - and no one else. 

She trusted him.

That was more than his family had given him.

On the mission Olai had sent them to, it was simply a pick-up. They needed raw materials to patch up the ship, which was in dire need of repair, and they stumbled across a local gang. Ava was holding onto a crate while Odin held one under his arm and another with his palm, when the group slithered up to them.

Ava had taken a step back when one of them neared her, stating “Look, a pretty redhead. You like redheads, right Kuld?” Another member shrugged as he neared, walking with hunched shoulders a disturbing sneer.

“I like any girl that doesn’t make a lot of noise.”

Odin was about to slowly put the crates down and pull the firearm out from under his belt, but Ava laughed. The noise made him go stiff at the joints.

That wasn’t Ava’s laugh at all. Her’s was sweet and pure as a bud in spring - this laugh shattered and cracked, boisterous and barking. It hurt to hear.

“You like any girl, then?” She set the crate down, and her smile was sharper than a moment ago, her skin brighter, hands rigid. 

Odin backed away, very slowly, swallowing hard and looking up to the gang.

“What, you think you can start a fight, girl?” One of them licked their lips and leaned down, cupping a hand under her chin. “Think you can beat us, eh?”

Ava’s grin turned feral.

“That,” and her hand shot forward and clamped around his throat, the man buckling onto his knees and gasping for air “or paint the town with your insides.” She pulled a hand in front of his face, showing claws and forcing him to look into scarlet eyes, so bright they burned. “Apologize.”

“Ah-I-I’m s-sorry, lady! Lemme go!” The man was scared into trembling, his hands grasping at her wrist desperately but making no progress. “Please!”

She pulled him back and tossed him across the alleyway, and he crashed into a dumpster. The metal bent and dented as he was knocked out cold.

“Leave. Now.” 

The gang fled, one of them hoisting the unconscious one over his shoulders before turning around a corner and vanishing.

Ava’s hands trembled, and she looked down at them. Odin watched as she made a noise of distress in the back of her throat, focusing on her talons and glowing flesh, squeezing them into fight fists.

“A-Ava?”

She exhaled sharply and her shoulders drooped. When she opened up her hands, the claws were receding. She smiled a little at the small control she had over her power - but it wasn’t enough. It might never be enough.

Her eyes were still flushing from the bright red colorations when she turned and hoisted the crate back in her arms. “Let’s head back.”

It wasn’t until they were loading up the terrain transport that Odin realized he had hidden behind her when she attacked.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Olai was rough.

That’s what the Arrows said, when Odin was sporting a bruise or a fresh slice down his forearm. Olai’s a bit rough, the twins told Ava when she inquired about the twisted brown bruise fading on his shoulder.

Olai was rough.

Ava was rougher.

Olai was sitting at the table, eyes narrowed as he spoke to Odin. He was giving Odin another talk - you’ve already failed so many times, what makes you think I should give you another mission? - when Odin muttered with eyes cast to the side “Y-You know I al-already know all this.”

“Then why don’t you change, Odin?” Olai had turned, shaking shaggy hair as he grasped a half empty bottle of something that stung when Odin smelled it “Why can’t you just stop?”

“I w-would if I c-could.”

“That’s a lie.”

Things escalated from there. Odin knew the girls would be huddled in their room, consoling Magpie at the yelling in the kitchen. He tried to imagine the sort of calming things they told her when Olai pulled out his switchblade, yelling aloud in anger, his arm descending as Odin crossed his arms in front of his face to protect himself, eyes squeezed shut-

A moment passed. 

Odin’s eyes crept open when he spotted scarlet hair and glowing skin. He threw his arms aside and his jaw went slack as Ava held the blade in one hand, blood rolling down her arm and dripping off her elbow. Olai was still holding the handle, and he blinked twice in succession.

“What the hell are you doin’, spitfire?”

Her hand tightened on the blade as she yanked it from Olai’s grip, setting it on the nearby table and pressing it down so Olai couldn’t snatch it up again. Her blood was darkening the wood, leaving a handprint.

“Little boys shouldn’t play with sharp things,” she warned, her voice low and husky “until you can deal with the consequences.”

“This isn’t your concern.”

She picked her bloodied hand up from the knife and pointed it directly at Olai’s face, her lips thinning into a sneer as she gestured with an extended finger “You have no idea what you’re doing. Are you aware your little sisters are currently crying their eyes out in the bedroom?” Olai’s expression dropped for a moment - Odin had to admit, Ava knew just where to hit. “You know, when I imagined a family, I never took into consideration that the alpha would be an abusive asshole.”

“Why, you-!”

“Odin,” she interrupted, back to him “go talk to your sisters. They’re worried sick.” She looked over her shoulder, her smile little more than venomous as she hissed “I’m going to have a talk with your brother.”

“A-Ava,” he felt fear clawing at his throat “d-don’t hu-”

“Go, Odin.” She turned back around, her hands going stiff, glowing to the tips. The open wound on her hand began to pulse gold, magma dripping with the crimson smears. He was considering not listen to her, to stop her from killing Olai or to see what happened, until he heard a muffled sob from the other room. 

He instantly ducked from the kitchen and into the hallway to reassure his sisters, when he realized that once again, just like before…

...he had stood behind Ava as she faced the enemy.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Olai was less inclined to yell at Odin after that. There was the usual jeers, the average harassment, but he lacked the conviction to do anything. There was a point when his hand curled into a fist, but he faltered almost instantly afterwards and scowled, looking aside.

They were collecting herbs when Odin asked. 

Ava was wearing a simple dress - those always looked best on her - and it was patched around the edges, where it had been worn or needed to be resewn. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder as she plucked a daisy from the forest floor.

“H-Hey Ava?”

She blinked and turned towards him, a tiny smile gracing him.

“J-Just how badly did you b-beat up Olai?”

She laughed suddenly, and Odin was hearing flowers. “I didn’t even put a hand on him, Odin!” He blanched, handing the basket of herbs over to her as he gathered a few more fresh greens. 

“What, I d-don’t believe that.”

“It’s true! I said I was going to talk to him, so I did.” She stuck the daisy in Odin’s hair, the milkiness of its petals sharply contrasting to the deep blacks of his hair. 

“Wh-What did y-you say?”

She hummed a little, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she looked up to a few gathering clouds in the sky. It might rain later - and Odin made a mental note to get home early from gathering.

“I told him the consequences of hurting someone over and over.”

The sun was casting sharp shadows across the grass. Ava’s feet were buried in the tall grasses, the wind shifting and her hair bellowing like a fire behind her, licking up her dress and across the plants, her laughter still echoing in his ears.

“Wh-What happens?”

Her teeth were a little too sharp when she smiled.

“You make a monster.”

He didn’t know what to say.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was going to rain.

The clouds churned ceaselessly in the sky, thunder roaring and lightening flashing like electric serpents, slithering through the sky and exploding with the ground. Odin winced when he heard a tree cracking as it was hit, the wood toppling to the ground.

Ava was looking through the rain streaked windows, blinking wide eyes, looking curious and fascinated at the pure force of nature.

Magpie screamed from upstairs.

Odin and Ava were already up on their feet when Crow and Raven spun around, all instantly panicked. 

They stopped when they saw her stumbling downstairs; A TiTAN scout had an arm around her shoulders and a gun to her head, neon eyes narrowing.

“I was almost skeptical when we were notified by some gang member that the notorious Ava Ire was staying here, but it seems I was correct.” Magpie swallowed hard as Ava’s hair went on end, frothing dangerously. Odin swore under his breath - with the storm outside, they couldn’t hear the TiTAN vessel landing. The guard would no doubt have back up.

“Put her down,” Ava warned.

The guard laughed. “You think I’m so stupid? I saw the carnage made of HQ. No, you’re going to come along with me or the girl gets it.”

Magpie wheezed, her eyes wide. She was so frail.

Ava put her hands up in a sign of surrender, but her eyes said otherwise. “Take me in her place. She’s sick.”

The Guard looked at Magpie’s flushed and pale face, the way her hands trembled and how her legs were giving out. “Come forward.”

Magpie was pushed towards the twins as the Guard put the gun to Ava’s head instead, holding her from behind. Odin pulled the girls behind him and prickled, thinking of any way to get Ava out of her current predicament. TiTAN elites weren’t afraid to kill, they were trained to be ruthless.

“Are you ready to die, Ava Ire?” the Elite taunted as they walked backwards towards the door, the gun sidelong to Ava’s head.

Her lips split into a grin.

“Are you?”

She yanked the Elites head to it was parallel with hers, and planting her hand over theirs she pulled the trigger.

Blue and red spattered across the wall as the shot rang throughout the house, Ava slumping forward as the guard fell backwards. Her hair blended in with her blood, her body limp as the guard’s twitched.

Craw and Raven both went pale, a cry wrenching itself from Raven’s throat before she planted a hand over her mouth. They covered Magpie’s eyes, and Odin felt his entire body go cold.

She had just shot through her own head to kill the elite.

Odin swallowed the bile in his throat seeing a corpse again, her corpse, once again there was blood and there-

Ava gasped.

They all stepped back as she sat up, her movements fluid as her arms stretched forward, grasping the floor, running her claws down the hardwood. She looked up at them, and once again her eyes were that burning red, blending in with the blood that streaked down her face.

“hh...nnnhh..ngh…” she stood, flexing her hands, clicking her teeth, breathing shallowly, eyes wide.

Odin tried to say something. “Y-You… Ava…”

She saw the dead elite on the ground and grabbed them, and with a sure movement she smashed them through the door and their corpse went flying into the dark.

“Don’t come… outside…” she warned, and all the Arrows backed away from her.

She was something else.

She wasn’t human.

She was a predator, and they were inches away from a deathdealer.

Ava exited, the gaping hole where the door was her exit.

There was silence, save the crashing of the skies. Odin turned to try and talk to his sisters, but they all froze.

A scream.

Gunshots rang out, orders were being shouted frantically.

There was the echo of something howling, shrieking, snarling against the elements and the TiTAN guards.

Odin scooped up his sisters as frantic orders converted into pure terror, the sounds of death.

When Odin finally slammed his sister’s door behind him, he could have sworn he heard laughter.

As his sisters lay huddled up to him, he couldn’t help but realize that he was standing behind her when she went to face the enemy.

Why?

Why was that happening?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

They all watched the door with a wary eye. When Ava entered, she looked no different than usual. 

Except for all the blood.

Hers was dried in her hair, down her face and throat. There was blue spattered over her hands, down her legs, across her mouth - it was enough to make Odin recoil.

She looked between all of them.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she murmured, eyes downcast she stepped upstairs. 

She was still Ava, obviously, from how she ducked her hair and scampered upstairs, but she couldn’t have been. They all saw her kill herself to kill that elite.

Odin recalled every moment she wrung her hands together anxiously at the mention of her own immortality, every time she called herself a monster, and it was making him sick to his stomach. 

“ _ You’re wondering why you always hide behind Ava, aren’t you? _ ”

_ Pedri. _ Odin glared and looked away, hands in tight fists before he bolted up to find a way to affix the door back on its hinges.

“ _ I’ll tell you why _ .” Three red eyes engulfed Odin’s vision as the creature murmured “ _ It’s better to be the right hand of the devil, than in her path. _ ”

Odin tried to swat the ghost away, but his words were chilling, creeping, crawling up his back like parasites. 

As he stared at the carnage outside from the doorway, burnt blues and crushed metals shining on the far hill, he dreaded when the he could hear the shower coming to a stop.

Ava was his friend. He knew that.

She was also going to be the death of him, he could tell that much the moment she stepped downstairs and smiled uneasily at him. 

“...h-help me c-clean this up.”

With how easily she plucked up the debris, Odin could almost mistake her for picking flowers.


	6. kissing booth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new, unposted, highschool au, flaming arrow  
> i don't like it very much, but maybe you will

Ava was certain Maggie hated her.

There was no way she would’ve put her in this spot otherwise.

She remembered the way Maggie tried to slip it into the conversation casually – “Hey, so, the school fundraisers are coming up, and we’re holding that huge festival! Neat, right? Anyway I signed you up for the kissing booth and hey look there’s Gil, gotta go!”

That hadn’t worked a bit. Even after Ava’s begging and finally fierce remark that she would just ditch, Maggie told her that joining in the fundraiser would give her extra credit in all her classes.

So came to be Ava sitting in a small, badly made “kissing booth” at eight in the evening with a small coin can next to her. She picked at it absently, all aware of the kids off in the corner laughing at her, snickering, daring each other to go to the booth.

Kids and other teenagers were wandering past, going to various fun-filled events. Ava herself would’ve rather been at home, not in this parking lot strung up with garish lights and loud music, the smell of fatty foods souring her stomach.

The teens in the corner were laughing, nudging each other – one finally approached the table, and it was a senior she knew by name.

“Wrathia,” Ava greeted neutrally, looking up at her.

Wrathia sneered, the expression pinching pretty violet lips and distorting her brows. “So, no takers yet? I wonder why,” she leaned forward on her elbows and flicked the empty can with her forefinger, watching it spin slightly.

Ava bunched her hands into fists under the table. “Probably because they can smell you lurking nearby,” she replied between grit teeth. Her throat hurt already, biting back her emotions – Wrathia reached up and flicked her in the forehead before huffing and walking off, signaling to her pack to move along. She wouldn’t find any fun here yet.

With anger pulsing hotly in her chest, Ava had half a mind to go after her and throw the can at her head, but she lost her nerve the moment they were out of earshot. She didn’t want any trouble tonight anyway – she wanted this night to be over as fast as possible.

Minutes passed and Ava awkwardly leaned her head down on her arms. Maybe if she pretended she was asleep, then no one would bug her, and everyone would assume the can was empty because no one wanted to bother her.

Mosquitos buzzed lazily around her and she swatted them once in a while, her hands already itching and her legs enflamed. She just had to wait until closing, and then she could leave.

The night sky looked awful from this view, she noted. The smoke from the grills and the fireworks muddied the sky until even the moon was blotted out with the ugly browns and greys.

She wished she brought a book.

She decided to try to guess what animals the people walking past would be in a children’s movie. One man with a broad face she thought should be a lion – another with a slouch and a slow walk she considered to be a turtle, except he was wearing bright purple. A girl went past with a slender neck and thin wrists, and Ava watched her walk away, thinking she would look best as a doe.

As she watched her walk away, someone slammed their palms on the table of the booth and Ava yelped, leaning back in her chair too far and falling over, the back of her head slamming into the ground. With a groan, she pulled herself back on her feet and repositioned the chair, only to find Wrathia’s boyfriend snickering on the other side of the booth.

“Pedri,” Ava greeted with a grumble. “Your girlfriend just bailed, she went that way.”

“Oh, I know,” Pedri smiled, revealing too-straight teeth. A foul odor came off his jacket as he leaned over. “How much for a kiss, girlie?”

Ava paused. She knew he was just getting under her skin, trying to make her anxious and fidget. She hated how her throat and face flushed already from the thought, but fought back against her initial embarrassment, replying tightly “For you? Fifty bucks.”

“Done,” and without hesitation, he whipped out the money she had requested, slipping it into the can.

Why was he acting like this? Wrathia would get on his ass if she knew he was kissing around, and it was only when Ava spotted Odin in the far corner, his hands in tight fists, that she understood – Pedri wasn’t trying to tease Ava, he was trying to tease her closest friend instead.

He was glaring at Pedri fiercely, biting his lower lip, his shoulders hunched. Her view of him kept getting blotted by a loose end of a canopy tarp flapping in the wind, and she glanced back to Pedri.

Ava batted her eyes, pressed her lips to her palm and blew him a kiss.

“Nice try,” he chuckled, and he reached forward and grasped the collar to her shirt, trying to pull her forward. Ava put a hand between them and tried to shove him off, but he kept pulling – frantically, she realized it was only them in the area, and she looked in Odin’s direction for help – but he was gone.

Ava felt a stab of panic for a split second, Pedri pressing closer, rancid breath nearing, before-

“Pedri, what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

For once, Wrathia was Ava’s saving grace.

“Put your boyfriend on a leash, Wrathia!” Ava managed to spit, shoving his face away from hers. Pedri backed away from her at seeing his girlfriend in the area, and Ava tilted the can over, pouring the contents onto the pavement and wiping her hands of his saliva.

Pedri scooped up the cash and tucked it in his pocket before Wrathia shoved him aside. Ava felt slightly mollified at the view, seeing him hunker away timidly at his lover’s anger, but Wrathia spun back around and slapped Ava in the face.

“You stay _away_ from him.”

Ava would’ve liked to bark “he came to me,” but Wrathia was already in a foul mood and getting fouler. Cupping her stinging cheek, the senior’s fake nails having scratched along her jaw, Ava only nodded once.

Wrathia dragged her boyfriend away and Ava sighed, lowering her head onto the table.

She felt sick.

Looking back up, no one was in the area. She wondered if she could just ditch early, maybe, and leave the empty can with a spiteful note, but she spotted the familiar gait of her best friend.

Instantly she relaxed, and waved a little – Odin locked eyes with her and he could see the empty contents of the can, having it tilted over, and he began to walk over – but his little sisters came from nowhere and grabbed onto his hands, yanking him the other direction.

He gave her an apologetic glance, trying to mouth something to her, but to no avail. Ava watched him get dragged around a corner, and she sighed, nearly putting her face in her hands but remembering Pedri’s lips on them, she recoiled and groaned.

Her face stung terribly. She could feel the slits in her skin where Wrathia’s nails tore along her jaw, and she touched it gingerly, trying to trace each individual line. While she was doing so, she was looking to the side, ignoring the laughter of other students as they passed by, ignoring the finger-pointing.

Ava fought tears, her throat tense – when she heard Wrathia’s voice approaching again, Ava smacked the can off the table and stomped away. She could hear some of Wrathia’s friends whooping at her, one calling for the little bunny to come back, but Ava ignored them fiercely. Instead, she walked from the decorated parking lot to the school grounds.

It looked so much eerier at night, the yellow glow and grey sidewalks giving everything a ghostly hue. The normally full classrooms were silent – Ava hoped that she’d see a ghost, and it would take her somewhere better than this place. She was careful not to walk in the darkest shadows.

Experimentally, she tugged on one of the door-handles, and found it locked. Of course, Odin had taught her other ways into the school, but she just wanted away from the mosquitos, and all the ways in would be occupied by lovers and druggies. She had no patience for that.

Maggie was supposed to give her a ride home after the event was over, but there was no way Ava was going to sit in that little booth for the next three hours just to hear people mock her and to feel the sting of embarrassment and intense humiliation from that empty can. She dusted her shirt and skirt a little, before simply walking along the dark sidewalks.

She wondered if this was what a phantom world was like, a shadow with no people and cool, humid silence alone. She wondered if this was what the world looked like to a ghost.

As she walked, she realized, off in the distance, the bathrooms by the football field were open. Of course they’d be, this was a school event.

Trotting across the damp and itchy grass, Ava entered the yellow bathrooms and inspected her reflection in the scratched mirror, splashing heavily filtered water over her stinging cheek. The scratches weren’t that bad, and they were barely bleeding, but the tiny beads of blood were still a testament to Wrathia’s abuse, and Ava hated them.

In fact, looking at her reflection in general made her feel upset. It was no wonder no one went to the kissing booth.

She exited the bathroom, feeling worse than before, and decided if she was going to be stuck here, the least she could do would be to find a quiet place to sit for a while. She contemplated several areas, all of which she knew would be occupied by one or two people, before remembering the secret spot Odin had showed her – behind the far bleachers, there was a space between the building and the seats. She had found a four leafed clover last time she sat there, but she doubted she would find such luck tonight.

Sneaking into that secret space, she sat down, feeling the damp grass soak into her skirts. She could almost see little patches of the night sky, from here, and she stared at them with a thick sensation strangling her – she didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be here…

She heard some boys whooping and laughing on the football field, and she froze, before realizing they hadn’t seen her. Looking out between the metal seats, she saw they were kicking something around, before the flock crammed into two cars and drove off, laughing wildly.

She was curious, but she was smart, too. She waited until she knew that they had all driven away, and she crept through the grass, the thing they had kicked a dark smudge. When she finally came to it, her gut dropped as she recognized it as the can she had at the booth, all dented inward and beat apart. She lifted it carefully, reverently, as though it was a wounded animal, before thinking with a slice of panic across her heart “What happened to the booth?”

She rushed back across the football field, cradling the can, her teeth hurting as she pushed herself to run across the sidewalks in the yellow light, flashing hazily across her vision, until she could see the festival being held in the parking lot. Bounding back into the fray, she stopped short of where her booth was supposed to be.

It had been kicked and broken in places, and in one place she could clearly see in Wrathia’s handwriting “DIE IN A FIRE AVA IRE” and she felt a great swell in her chest. They just didn’t let up, did they?

She wasn’t entirely surprised, but she didn’t want Maggie to be disappointed in her, either. Luckily the booth was just painted plywood, and was able to drag it to the back with two hands, before cradling the can and deciding to retreat into her hiding spot again.

She hid in the darkest shadows, cradling the busted can, and she cried.

-

Odin had managed to tear himself away from his siblings. He hadn’t even come with them, Olai had brought them, but they were insistent on dragging him everywhere. He hadn’t minded, until he realized on the second walk-about that Ava’s booth had been taken to the back.

Upon closer inspection, he realized with a needle of pain digging deeper into his chest, the booth was ruined. Vandalized and broken apart. Where was the girl running it?

Where was Ava?

He thought about the places she would go, and he wandered around the school. He had thought to text her, but he forgot his phone at home – instead, he looked around on careful treading feet until he remembered the luckiest place they had hidden.

When he found her, the girl was much like the booth – vandalized and broken apart. Ava had her face in her arms, and she wept softly, hugging her knees to her chest. He could barely see her in the dark lighting, but he could make out a few strands of her hair, and the outline of her hunched form.

“A-Ava?”

He saw her head snap up, and he could see the shine of tears down her cheeks.

“Ava…” he leaned down and crept into their hiding spot, and when he reached out to touch her, her hand grasped his wrist.

“P-Pl-lease,” she hiccupped heavily “t-take me home…”

The can was next to her, beaten and dented. He nodded, bringing her closer, tucking her head against his chest.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Ok-Okay. I’ll t-take you h-home.” Instead of moving immediately, he held her for a moment, hoping his touch and his smell was soothing. He hoped the way he held her hands and rubbed little circles in the tops of her palms was calming, that his quiet humming into her hair was enough to stop her crying. He couldn’t take it when she cried. His chest hurt.

Eventually, her crying weakened into hiccups, and her hiccups into unsteady breathing.

Carefully, he helped her to her feet, and with a hand around her shoulders, he led her to his car. She was leaning against him, eyes downcast.

He eyed her, before opened his car door and ushering her inside. She slipped into the seat easily, still clutching the can, and he went around and slipped into the driver’s side.

They sat like that for a long moment. His car smelled like leather and engine oil, and it was a familiar scent she had grown accustomed to associating with comfort, and her shoulders finally dropped into something almost calm.

“Y-You don’t… h-have to b-be em-embarassed,” he murmured anxiously to his hands, glancing her way only for a split second before looking back.

“They just sat there mocking me the whole time. They just… made fun of me. I know I’m not the prettiest,” she put a hand to her face, feeling something “and I’m not the most popular, but… I didn’t think it would feel this bad.”

Her hands settled back around the can.

“I didn’t think they’d be this cruel. My mistake, I guess.”

Odin watched her, before sighing and turning on the car. As he backed out, the radio started up, and he fumbled to turn it off, the sudden heavy rock almost funny enough to break the tension, but not quite, only building up the awkwardness further.

“Can I roll down a window?”

“Y-Yeah.”

She liked the way her hair felt in the cool wind. She liked how the air felt fresher when it was colder, and how the smells and the sounds of the festival grew fainter and fainter.

“D-Do you want to g-go home?” he asked a stoplight, and she replied “No.”

They sat at the stoplight for a minute, and since there was no one waiting, they even waited while it was green until it turned red again. Odin’s fingers tapped the steering wheel methodically, thinking, before he said “I’ll t-take you to b-breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” she questioned hoarsely. “It’s nine in the evening.”

“It’s al-always breakfast at Denny’s,” he corrected, and she laughed a little under her breath, weakly, as he flicked on the turn signal.

The drive was shorter than she liked. Long drives let her mind lull into softness, into neutrality, and it didn’t last as he pulled into the driveway.

The lights of the Denny’s felt invading, overbearing – Ava squinted when they first entered, her eyes aching for a moment, but they adjusted. Odin requested a booth in the far corner, and they sat on the same seat, Odin pressed against the window as Ava leaned on his shoulder.

“Do you even have any money to pay?”

“N-Nope.”

She laughed a little, only slightly, until his expression sharpened.

“Wh-What happened t-to your f-face?”

She automatically put a hand to her cheek. “Wrathia slapped me because her boyfriend tried to kiss me.”

“T-Tried?”

“I wouldn’t let him,” she trailed off when she felt Odin inspecting her wounds, looking over her jawline with a severe frown. She knew they’d already be healing up, they weren’t that deep, but the contact with his callous fingers still stung.

“H-He was t-trying to kiss you to m-make me upset,” Odin murmured, his brows upturning in guilt.

“It’s not your fault,” she reassured, glancing away, cheeks flushed by his intense eyes looking over her cheeks, along her nose, settling at her mouth – she almost pushed his hand away but didn’t, letting it trace along her cheek until he withdrew it. “If you can’t pay, we really shouldn’t be here.”

“Wh-What, don’t want to d-dine and dash?” he joked, before he continued “I h-have a little m-money, just not a lot. T-Try to eat something.”

In the end, they shared a plain pancake meal. Ava ate half, and he ate a quarter. They ate in silence, and when Odin couldn’t eat anymore, Ava requested for a box. She carried it under her arm as they left, and they stopped just outside the doors as Odin inhaled the cool air with rattling lungs.

“S-So. Where to now?”

“My house,” she replied quietly. “I should get my homework done before the weekend.” She didn’t add _especially because my extra credit fell through_ , and he nodded solemnly.

Her parents were in bed by the time they got home, and she snuck him upstairs. He knew how to escape from her windowsill – they had done this plenty of times, but for once, Odin felt like he had to stay throughout the night.

Her room felt much too small for everything in her head. Odin looked over the walls, plastered in pictures and plastic sleeves filled with dried flowers – notes and her favorite diary entries were tacked over each other, until the wallpaper wasn’t even visible. Full books lined the edges of her bed, and a half-drawn in sketchbook was by her bed-light. It used to be his sketchbook, but they had just started exchanging it between the two of them after the new semester started.

She set the can by her window and turned to look at him, smiling tiredly. The moonlight swathing her from behind looked spectacular, and he stripped off his jacket, setting it next to the pancake box.

“Can you help me with something?” He nodded as she fell over on her bed, face first. “Can you rub my back? It’s stiff.”

“S-Sure.” He kicked off his boots and sat above her on the bed, and he pressed his hands into her spine. Her back was stiff with knots in her muscle, denting her flesh, and she made little satisfied groans as he pressed against them. He pressed hard into one stiff knot, and he made a pained, hissing noise between her teeth – before he could stop she groaned “Keep going.”

“D-Did it hurt?”

“Yeah, but it’ll feel better after.”

So he dug the flats of his palms into her sore back as she squirmed, groaning and twisting a little, writhing when it hurt too much – he withdrew after a minute and she relaxed, sighing in content.

He wondered if this is what it would be like, if that’s what she would sound like, under different circumstances.

He moved to get off, but she grabbed him by the wrist and rolled, dragging him onto the bed. He fell with a thick whump onto her comforter, and she laughed at his messy hair from the fall as he scrambled to twist himself into a comfortable position.

“Can you stay tonight?” she asked as they faced each other on the bed, Odin eyeing her warily for any other tricks.

“Y-Yeah.” Odin reached out to touch her chin but she dodged, shaking her head a little, before getting up and going to her bathroom. He could hear her washing up, and getting changed into her pajamas, and when she came back out, she was damp.

“Wh-Why’d you wash up y-your arms?” he asked as she settled back onto the bed, and he could see the wetness clinging to her skin.

“Pedri slobbered all over them when I was pushing him off.”

Odin frowned sharply, leaning up on one elbow. “Wh-Where?” She lifted up an arm and pointed towards her wrist, up her hands – he took her by the hand and gently kissed her wrist, pressing his lips against her damp skin. “Wh-Where else?”

She was blushing now, blossoming over her cheeks and brightening the wound on her cheek. She gestured to the slits on her jawline and Odin leaned over her, hand on either side of her head, kissing them and tasting, indistinctly, copper – he pulled back.

Her hair was piled up behind her, scarlet tresses like a pool of blood behind her head. She blinked up at him, slowly, eyes trained on his face.  

“An-Anywhere else,” he asked again, his words quiet.

She pointed to her mouth, and he dipped his face down, kissing her, feeling her chapped lips against his. She inhaled sharply and her own hands came to settle on the back of his head, fingers burying in his hair as he angled his mouth to better deepen the sensation, until the both of them were breathless.

Ava was smiling goofily now, her cheeks glowing, and he knew his expression was mirroring hers as he laid back down next to her. She tugged on her blanket and tossed it over them both, and they maneuvered themselves accordingly – they were holding hands under the pillow, and Ava had her other hand pressed to his chest, as though to keep track of his heartbeat, while his had settled on her hip.

“If I was alone at the kissing booth,” she asked quietly “would you have asked for a kiss?”

He blinked. “N-No. Not at a-all.”

“Why not?”

“I l-like th-this booth better,” he murmured, hand pulling at her hip until they scooted together, closing the distance. “A-And its f-free.” She huffed a laugh, bumping her forehead against his, her hand tightening its grip.

Her eyes grew soft as she said aloud “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m g-glad I’m h-here too. Th-There’s no place I’d rather be.” With that, he flicked off the lamp next to her bed.

Under the light of the moon, the can on her windowsill didn’t look so dented at all – those were Odin’s last thoughts as he tucked her close and they both fell into a dreamless sleep.


	7. illusion is a mortal's best friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sinswap inspired by that pic crowsang did

Dusk settled its sunflower and violet colorations across the classroom, glazing the vandalized desks with golds and honeyed-indigos, long shadows creeping along the rug. A single girl sat on the teacher’s desk, her skin awash with the hues of the setting sun. 

With the fantastic lighting and the darkness of the shadows, she felt like a painting as she spoke to her ‘teacher.’

_“Be confident.”_

“Yes, sir.”

_“Don’t mumble.”_

“Yes, sir.”

_“The best weapon you have in your pathetic arsenal is fear, girl, so use it – but do not abuse it.”_

“Yes, sir.”

_“Look up.”_

Ava dragged her gaze upwards, shoulders taut, eyes narrowed and mouth pursed to meet the steely three-eyed stare of her demon. He watched her for a moment, watching for any flaw in her façade, before nodding once.  

_“You know how temporary this agreement is.”_

“I do,” she replied evenly, folding her hands behind her back, leaning up a little so her form would straighten correctly “and _you_ know how vital I am to you, as well.”

He scowled, but he had taught her many things, one of them being to stand your ground, don’t draw back from pain. He taught her how to sweet-talk information out of someone, or how to be so invisible people didn’t care if you were listening to their well-guarded secrets. He taught her to look presentable, hair perfectly brushed and shirts pressed clean of any wrinkles. He taught her how to speak with potent poison and pretend your words could be the cure, too.

He also taught her to hate the color violet, to flinch at bird bones on the sidewalk, and how not to let your lashes flutter if you were afraid.

_“I’m not going anywhere, so if you start to screw up I’m taking over.”_

“Such confidence,” she replied easily, straightening her collar for the millionth time, and he crossed his arms and leaned over her, eyes shining so brightly her hands appeared to be red.

_“You can only be of so much use if you can’t_ learn _anything, girl. For now, you’re a tool.”_

“Glad to be the wind beneath your wings, Pedri,” she looked up to him flatly “what information exactly is it that you want wheedled out of my principal? I can’t know what to say without a goal in mind.”

“ _The fat cup of lard that assumes to have power in this place has to know some way to get off this planet_.” Pedri leaned back, before sweeping his gaze across the room and settling on the chalkboard, smudged with the past lessons erased. “ _We both know what I know – get the info and don’t be overly dramatic, then we’ll be off this rock.”_

“With _you_ as my ‘tutor’? Oh, never,” her sardonic reply carried waspishly between them, and she learned to stop bracing herself when he towered over her furiously. At her neutral response, he nodded approvingly. A puppet who wasn’t afraid, the face of a smiling, innocent little girl – Wrathia had been wrong. Finding someone who could slip under the nose of TiTAN was far more useful than a battalion.

At first, he was furious when he was bonded to Ava, an infant, a useless little flesh raisin – but his lack impulsive actions were what made him the best husband for Wrathia, so, he drew back, and he bided his time.

His efforts bore fruit. Although she was still a miserable little human girl who couldn’t hold her own in any kind of physical fight, in the battle of silver-tongues he had sharpened hers across the whetstone of his teachings and it was razor sharp. For now, she’d do.

They both glanced to the side as they heard the heavy footfalls of the principal approaching.

“ _Remember_ ,” he repeated “ _confidence. It’s your best lie_.”

Ava nodded, before hopping off the desk and going to face the windows, hands on her hips. She appreciated a good sunset, really – she had so little time to watch them these days with Pedri looming over her, making demands, preening her into something. She only followed along due to fear and logic, the rules of any coward, and she took her time watching the clouds burst with color, like roses blooming in the sky, and she smiled a little.

The door opened. She let her shoulders settle into their familiar posture of perfection. “Principal.”

“Ava,” the man trudged in, closing the door behind him “what’s the meaning of this note?”

She turned, the light to her back, her face shadowed like an inkblot over her features. “Do you like your position, Principal?”

His wrinkles set deeper with a frown as he adjusted his glasses, shoulders hunched and hands steady. He had seen TiTAN’s heel and he wasn’t intimidated by a little girl – not yet, anyway.

“I asked you a question, Ava,” he set the note on a nearby desk “I’m waiting for an answer.”

“I ask because I couldn’t help but _notice_ how many rules you’ve been breaking,” Ava’s voice was deceptively light, and airy, as though it wouldn’t cut when it met its mark. “You see, I’ve been doing some research, and I’ve started to see a pattern how many times you’ve just _cut out_ the _bad_ students off the official school roster. Upping the average, Principal? Tsk tsk, TiTAN education wouldn’t like learning about that _, not – one – bit_.”

He didn’t reply, just stared at her. She couldn’t track is eyes with the glasses on, but he couldn’t track hers with the shadow across her face.

Ava also didn’t reply. She waited. She could squeeze blood from stones and the Principal was such a tired old man, it didn’t take long before a sigh deflated out of him.

“What do you want?”

“What do you mean by that?” she offered innocently “I’m just making sure we’re on the same track. But,” she slid her right elbow into her left palm, her right hand settling on her chin, the picture of guiltless thought “if you’re _offering_ , I _might_ keep my mouth shut a little tighter if you happen to know a ship that gets off-world often, and wouldn’t mind an extra passenger.”

He grumbled. “I do.”

“And when the time comes, I can count on you to clip me off the roster too?”

He sunk his chin into his collarbone, his starched collar stained with sweat. “You can.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.” She stepped past him, plucking her note off the desk “it’ll be our little secret, Principal. No one has to know a thing, right?”

“Right,” he replied, pressing his palms against his pants, leaving sweaty streaks.

“Oh _… one more thing_ ,” Ava turned, her voice taking on a strange metallic edge, her eyes reflecting a threatening indigo “ _do you happen, off the top of your head, to know anything about Wrathia Bellarmina?_ ”

He shook his head, confused. “D-Does that change anything-?”

“ _Of course not_ ,” she replied “ _I was just curious. As I said_ -” Ava lifted a hand, tapping her lips with an extended finger, winking. _“-it’s our little secret.”_

She shut the door and Pedri released his grip on her shoulders. Ava spun around, scowling, speaking just under her breath. “I _had_ it.”

_“I needed to know if she was common knowledge.”_

“Now he knows what you’re looking for-”

“ _The fat man is too terrified to think of anything other than your threats. We’re relying on TiTAN’s punishment, here. We’ll see how deeply rooted it is in his marrow. For now_ ,” Pedri directed as she walked the empty halls “ _pack your things_.”

“Finally going off world, huh? Bet you must be ecstatic.”

“ _My planets were overwhelmingly better than this one. Even the worst, the most impoverished planet under my command was never this pathetic. It sickens me to the core_.”

Ava didn’t reply. She was used to his overwhelming and overbearing pride when it came to his lost legacy, and she had learned not to stroke an ego that would bite.

She walked, back straight, eyes ahead, and hands stiff to her sides. She felt like an automaton, some kind of undead thing – something that was never alive, never meant to be alive – something given a soul by only looking like a person, like a doll or a mannequin.

“ _Don’t forget to destroy the evidence_.”

“Naturally,” she replied under her breath, just loud enough that he could hear, just quietly enough that she could deny saying anything if anyone caught it – she returned to her room. In the corner was a trashcan filled with soot and ashes, burnt things, and there Ava burned the note before flushing the remaining ashes down the toilet and putting another plastic bag in.

Of course, Pedri watched her the whole time, sitting in the far corner with bright eyes and a wicked necklace of dead birds to remind her of what she was relying on to help her get out of this situation. He watched, and watched, and _watched_ until Ava felt like shrieking at him to find somewhere else to shove his eyes, but she never did. She had to keep the picture of control. If she looked like she was in control, if she sounded confident, if she acted the part, people would eventually believe it.

“ _Your ex-friend, Maggie?_ ”

The memory of now blue curled hair and pink nails digging into her skin flashed through her mind and Ava went stiff for a fraction of a second before replying smoothly “What about her?”

“ _She might be useful, you know. People like her. She’s charismatic_.”

“Maggie won’t listen to me, or anyone. She takes what she wants, and she wants everything,” Ava pulled out a hidden dufflebag she had under her bed and began packing a few choice things – clothes, a journal, basic toiletries – “an ally who can’t make up her mind isn’t an ally at all.”

“ _You’re still just too weak to take advantages when you see them. If she wants everything, give her a desire, and then grant it. Then give her another desire, and grant that one, until she relies on you. It’s a simple process, girl_. _I happen to know that envy is easily played_.”

“Experienced?”

“ _Naturally_ ,” he mimicked cruelly, and Ava bit the acid off her tongue from replying. She was already overstepping her boundaries by denying him something _he_ wanted, and although he was weaker these days, he could still make her do things, make her say things – her control was an illusion, and it would always be an illusion until she got Pedri out of her hair. “ _What does she want these days?_ ”

“I tend not to keep track of her,” Ava lied, and Pedri saw through it, eyes glowing fiercely “but, from what I’ve heard, she’s into boys.”

“ _Classic adolescent_ ,” he pondered aloud, and Ava zipped up her bag. It was painfully light – if there was more to her life than leading a hollowed lie for an equally hollowed demon it might’ve been packed to the brim. “ _For now, go to bed. I need you rested for tomorrow_.”

“Why?” Ava asked, and Pedri rumbled something strange in reply.

_“I have a feeling.”_

With that, his visage receded, off to rest. Ava finally let her shoulders drop for the first time, all day, changing into her soft pajamas and flopping over face down on her bed, hair scattering around her.

Finally, she could breathe.

The one thing she could take pride in was that despite his constant pestering, she hadn’t pacted with Pedri. She had turned the poison he had cultivated inside her against him and convinced him to use it as a second solution. Chances were she’d go off and get herself killed in one of his exploits one of these days, and if he didn’t want to spend another fifteen years growing another manipulative bastard he’d listen.

He did, surprisingly.

So, Ava’s body was still her own, and she finally lay down to sleep. This puppet still had control over some of her strings.

There was no reason to smile, but Ava did. It wasn’t a smile of deceit or faux innocence, but the tired smile of a con man taking off their hat at home, and if anyone had seen it, it would’ve been heartbreaking.

No one had seen it, though.

Ava turned off her lights, and slept.


	8. roses are red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to kick my muse back into gear

Nothing was worse, Ava thought bitterly, than allies through fear.

Well – Wrathia had replied to that thought, spinning her carved pipe delicately between two perfectly filed and talon’ed fingers – _Nay, girl, but an ally out to kill you after the battle is worse than one who’d rather flee._

Ava assumed she spoke through experience, and decided not to pry any further. She had learned a long time ago to ignore the witch, and even though sometimes she had important information to dispense to her host, she was mostly a long-toothed chatterbox.

Her feet sunk into sweet soil. Maggie’s mind was pretty, and it sparkled around the corners of her vision like a cheap drug. Ava waved off the glamor with a quick glare and began her search.

She remembered too acutely how satisfying it was to see Maggie quivering, afraid, and it made her sick to her stomach. She had a smile that mirrored Wrathia’s at the time, from the long sharp teeth to how filled with bloodlust it was.

Speaking of lust, Ava pushed her palm against the trunk of a sad tree, revealing the heartbroken wails within; she had a bone to pick with Maggie’s demon. Ever since she strong-armed Maggie into teaming up with her – an easy task when you’re made of hot sharp things – she knew little about Tuls and his goal. In order to get this done and get it done fast, she needed both sides of the coin to cooperate.

She slipped inside, and per Wrathia’s instructions, followed the “self-pitying moans” until she located him. Ava could recognize him, thanks to the limbo lenses, but seeing him as a moving creature and not a vague echo through star-dusted lenses was a different experience. He was huge.

Giant red leaves clung around his collar like the mane of a lion, almost noble – his giant hands steadily painted the portrait of a delicate looking daisy woman, with a soft expression. Ava thought it was wistfully cute, in a way, until she glanced up and saw portraits of the woman everywhere.

…a little concerning, but she’d prefer portraits to drawers. Clearing her throat, she announced “Hello? Are you Tuls?”

His movements slowed, the brush pressed against the canvas inching to a halt as he tilted his head slightly. She could barely see his face, but she could distinctly spot a deepening frown.

“…who else would it be?”

Either all demons were sassy or Ava was being sensitive. In any case, she steeled herself and announced “I’m Wrathia Bellarmina’s host.”

That got his attention. His ears seemed to twitch at the edges, and his form groaned as he stood, wood snapping into place as his huge body settled into another position. He finally turned all the way, and his gaze, although drunk with sadness, was still sharp. His eyes were bright with curiosity – and wariness.

“…Ava?” She blinked in surprise. “Maggie’s… old friend? You are… Wrathia’s host?” he wasn’t stupid with his words, or slow, as though they were processing – it just seemed like there was a lag between his mind and his mouth. It still put Ava on edge enough that her fingertips went hot. “That…” he put a hand to his mouth. “…explains a… few things.”

“Most things, really,” she refuted casually, eyes automatically darting up to the perfect paintings all around “but I’m here to talk to you about some things.”

“What things?” he echoed softly, hollow – he turned back to the painting and it looked like he was going to sit down again, so Ava reached out and put a hand on his wrist. Apparently, he was used to Maggie prodding him, because he didn’t notice until Ava curled her fingers inward and he felt the slight prick of almost-claws.

“Why did you pact?”

His glance sharpened. “I had little choice. It was this… or remain a specter.” He didn’t sit down again, luckily, because Ava was certain if he got back to his painting he’d ignore her completely. “Why did you?”

“I wanted something. So do you – I know that look,” her own eyes sparked fire, ferocity and want – it mirrored Tuls’ own expression. “That’s the look of someone who wants nothing except _one – single – thing_. And nothing else matters. Not even dying.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and his eyes didn’t study her expression – he was gauging the cruelty in her pupils, the rage in her furrowed brow. A few faeries danced nearby, curious, but quickly departed when the atmosphere turned sour.

“…you are a little like Wrathia… but not completely.” She opened her mouth and he put up a hand. “…that’s a good thing… she’s insufferable. Sit with me…” he sat down in front of his painting and began mixing pigments again. Ava sat on a nearby stump, which she assumed Maggie used often – it was worn a little like a seat. Or did laws of erosion even work in a magical mind-scape? Ava pushed that question aside as she pulled her knees up to her chin.

Tuls continued painting, and it wasn’t for a few minutes that he began speaking again. “What… was your pact?”

Her grip on her knees tightened till there were little crescent shape indentations on her caps. “Why do you ask?”

“You sit like someone… who’s wish is innocent.”

“Is there a way to sit like it isn’t?”

A tiny smile up curled the edged of his mouth. “Yes… look to Wrathia or her husband for an example.”

Ava snickered into her palm and replied “Fine; I’ll bite. I want a second chance.”

“At what?”

“Life. If you haven’t noticed, Wrathia is really good at ruining those. And ending them.”

He nodded in agreement, huge leaves serving as hair bobbing with the movement. “…fair enough. My wish… is to confess my love… to this woman.” He tapped the canvas with the wooden tip of his brush, and Ava inched closer to see how the painting was coming along.

“Who is she?”

“My Princess… Ranunculae.”

Cinders shot out of her mouth in surprise as Ava repeated “Your princess-? So you’re not royalty?” He shook his great, shaggy head slowly, like sap dripping between the cracks of bark on a tree. “Huh. I thought all of Wrathia’s warriors were some kind of nobility.”

“You’ll find the only nobles… are her and her husband…”

That was an interesting nugget of information. Ava stowed it away for later as her toes curled uncertainly. “If you’re not a royal, and that’s your princess – who were you?”

“I was… a guard… a _knight_ … _her_ knight.” His tone went soft, and Ava let it. She could only imagine what kind of mockery he had received from Maggie. “I was… her escort… her companion… her confidant… her friend.”

Ava smiled and relaxed a little, lowering her legs and pressing her elbows to her knees, acting the part as the avid listener. “You two fell in love?”

He cleared his throat uncertainly. It was a pretty abrupt noise coming from someone who spoke as slow as paint dried. She wondered if he’d get his story out before his canvas solidified.

“I fell in love… with her. I am… uncertain… what her feelings are… towards me.”

“Ah.” She ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek, feeling bumps and scars from when her teeth were sharp and dug into the soft flesh. “so, you just want to get your feelings out?”

“Basically. When I died I was… not in the position… to make a declaration such as that… though I wanted to, dearly.”

“How did you die?” Ava questioned aloud, not catching the thoughts before they fled out her mouth – she was pressing the edge of the cliff, here, but she wasn’t sure when she’d get a chance to talk to him again.

“How did you?” he asked back, brow raised and expression skeptical. It was strange to see such a heavy face so dynamic.

She fiddled with the straps on her dress, looking to the side and focusing her vision on another canvas. “I – uh – was impaled on TiTAN’s sword.”

“…mn. Execution?”

“Accident,” she replied, before stopping. “Well – sort of, I guess. Maggie _did_ want me dead when she crashed the ship. I guess her wish was granted when I was flung onto the statue. I guess that’s _kind of_ an execution.”

“Then… perhaps… you will understand.” He began final touch-ups of the Princess’ face. “You see… Ranunculae… is sweet. Kind. Patient…. To a _self-destructive_ degree. She was… betrothed.” Ava flinched involuntarily. Tuls was carrying around some serious baggage, and she wasn’t any therapist – but knowing the depth of his motivations could only help her in convincing him to have some incentive with her quest.

He glanced to her, and she was waiting patiently for him to continue. “Her betrothed was… a weed,” he hissed the word, and Ava felt a sharp spike of fear go down her spine seeing sharp green teeth revealed in his sneer. “He took advantage of her… manipulated her… I saw and offered advice… break the marriage. But… she put her personal needs last… in comparison to the needs of her people.”

“A very Princess-like thing to do,” Ava noted, and Tuls rolled his shoulders irritably.

“I agree… but I love her. And I could not… _would not_ … stand idly by… as she was paired for life to that _nightshade_ of a prince.” She could almost see it unfolding in front of her – Tuls foolish chivalry mixed together with his infatuation was a toxic combination. “On their wedding night… I ended the prince.”

She could see why Wrathia chose him to be one of her warriors. When he had motivation, he saw it through to the end. His leaves ruffled at the memory, thorns winding tightly around his feet, and Ava swallowed hard.

“However… when I buried him in the garden… early the next morning, he was demanding my corpse on the front steps. That’s the real… _issue_ … with plants,” he surmised with a scrunched expression, dabbling a bit more paint onto the picture “they’re hard to _kill_.”

“So… what did you do?”

“…there is a way to kill… his kind… my kind… but it involves something you are well acquainted with.” His lifted his head from his painting and tilted it her direction. The sparkling light around them only made this conversation seem more gruesome. “…fire.” Her muscles went taut, but he was looking back to his picture and didn’t notice. “I am no fire-bearer, nor do I claim to be… but… Wrathia noticed my ability… she sought my company in my prison cell… and offered a deal.”

He stood. His painting was finished, and now, he fished around the corner for a good frame for the portrait. “I was to be executed… for my crimes… but I could live again. In exchange… for assisting her after death… she would _permanently_ end the prince.” He pulled out a glossed oaken frame, and dusted it off. “Naturally, I agreed.”

_Naturally_ \- Ava stomach felt like a hot coil of tension, but she continued to listen as ask questions, as was her role in the conversation. “You were executed?”

“Eventually. The process… takes a while. They tend to weaken the prisoners first… so that they can’t take root after being killed. I believe it was a couple years… before my sentence was completed…”

A couple years waiting for death, thinking only of his Princess – no wonder he was obsessed. “But I’m guessing you’re not really interested in actually helping Wrathia in her mission.”

“ _Your_ mission,” he corrected “is none of my concern… but I did make a deal… and I have been found, despite the odds… so I suppose I’ll _have_ to help.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” she muttered, pushing her hair back and narrowing her eyes “but, how about this – before we kill TiTAN, we’ll find Ranunculae and put her somewhere safe. That way you can consider it more like protecting her rather than killing Wrathia’s enemies.”

He was slipping the canvas into the frame, clipping it on, and he stopped. “…you are…determined to see this through.”

“TiTAN has put me through my fair share of bullshit,” she replied waspishly, running her nails along her scalp painfully while she pulled her hair back again “so consider it less determination and more pissed off. I’m not that noble about this.”

“Determination… has nothing to do with nobility. Wrathia was determined to be empress… and she killed many. She is not noble… nor is she humble, or valorous…”

“I can make a list longer than that of the things Wrathia _isn’t_ – what matters is that I need your cooperation and I need it fast. My enemies aren’t slowing down anytime soon-”

“You are hoping,” he interrupted quietly “that the sin you do is worth what you want.”

Silence flooded the space between them until it was suffocating, constricting – Ava’s limbs felt tight, like she was being strangled, and she didn’t reply for a few moments. When she did, her words did nothing to alleviate the pressure between them. “Aren’t you hoping the same thing?”

“We are… creatures of deals and desires, Ava…” It was the first time he used her name since their initial introduction, and it felt too personal, too exposed to say it at a time like this. “…we are doing terrible things… for innocent wants… now we see where they will land us. In heaven,” he stroked the Princess’ face in the portrait longingly, before looking to Ava “or in hell.”

She licked her lips anxiously, and they tasted bitter. For a moment in time, they simply stared at one another, a fellow creature of wishes and sin, while sunbeams revealed the golden pollen dancing around their ears playfully. They both murdered for their desires, both made deals with a long-toothed demon in the dark – they both looked up to their hopeful destination while trying to ignore being knee deep in blood and guilt.

“…it has been… interesting… to talk with you…” he plucked the picture up, now investigating a place to set it “but… Magnolia will be waking soon… so you’d best leave.”

Ava didn’t spare another moment to retreat. They were both eager for some personal time, and Ava didn’t want to be near him for much longer. He was entirely aware of what he did, he comprehended exactly what he asked of Wrathia, and he felt no remorse – only sadness that he didn’t confess to his Princess.

Every day, the events of TiTAN HQ ate at Ava’s marrow like a parasite.

As she entered the domain of her mind, surrounded by tight drawers and fire, she wondered – would there ever come a time when she would cut down her enemies without looking back, ignoring her sins with something as domestic as painting – or was she too many steps off from Wrathia, and she would never truly enjoy her new life?

Looking back on it, perhaps there was almost nothing worse than having allies that feared you – other than understanding precisely _why_ they feared you, and knowing that quality would most likely be your downfall.

Ava closed the drawers to her mind tightly and tried not to think of a blood-soaked giant staring longingly at his princess, and she failed.

 

 

 


	9. sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *burbles my lips together* uuuh i miss people and im a nostalgic bastard here's a ficlette

Odin was not a morning person. If it was up to him he wouldn’t get out of bed at all, but the day didn’t start until he had his boots on, so more often than not his shrill alarm would snap him up.

Sometimes he just drifted awake. He used to wake up with nightmares as a child, and anxiously shuffle over to his parents room in concern – he remembered on more than one occasion, sneaking out with wiggling toes onto dirty hardwood and slowly opening their door to see if they were awake. Usually it was early morning, everything an eerie, silent grey – though they were lying still, he could hear faint whispering. Coming up to their bed, his parents used to smile at him, nestled close and awake, but simply taking in each other’s company.

His mother would pat the bed and he’d sleep between them, or at least lie there was they discussed different topics, his mother’s fingers trailing through his hair. His father’s hearty chuckle seemed to shake the whole bed. His parents had seemed like such giants at the time, and he truly felt safe nestled between their warmth.

That was a long time ago. However, history seemed determined to repeat itself as he snapped awake with not his alarm, but another nightmare. He grappled the blankets a moment, blinking phantom pains away as he gasped for air, sitting up and holding his side before the memory subsided.

“Are you okay?”

The nightmare didn’t wake him up, someone knocking did. He turned in surprise to see Ava standing in the doorway, head peeking in as she anxiously debated stepping in all the way.

“Wh-Wh- _What_ ,” he leaned his head down, exhaling, exasperated “do y-you _want_.”

“I – I just wanted some company. I’m sorry, I thought you were awake…” he turned back to her, and found himself looking at a mirror for a moment – they had the same shadows in their eyes from nightmares taunting them, and he wasn’t feeling cruel enough to cast her aside. Instead he scooted on his bed and pat one side, waiting for her to come in and sit down.

She did so, hesitantly – she shut the door behind her with her foot and inched onto his bed until they were sitting side by side.

“…c-couldn’t sleep?”

“A little,” she was clutching the bottom of her shirt, leaving little grooves in the cloth with her claws. He idly wondered if they needed to get her a scratching post or something before she continued “you were… I was going to leave, but you kept making noises in your sleep…”

“D-Don’t worry about it,” he grumbled, pulling the blankets back up and leaning back down “I’m g-going back to sl-sleep.”

“Okay…”

However, the morning birds were beginning their little symphony by his window, and Odin couldn’t sleep. It didn’t help that Ava was still just sitting there, tense and unmoving.

He turned and she jerked. “…y-you can lie d-down, too, y-you know.” She swallowed hard, her throat flashing with magma she was keeping down –  like an animal flashing the whites of its eyes, afraid –  before she tentatively crept under the covers too, keeping herself on her side. Odin did as well, but her body heat traveled and soon his blankets were warm again.

“Wh-What did you d-dream about?”

“I thought that would be obvious,” she replied, a forced laugh in her voice as her eyes darted to the side – but his gaze remained steady and undaunted. She cleared her throat and spoke again, voice softer. “I had a dream, I was… uhm… I w-was,” her words began to crumble across her tongue “holding hands with Pedri, and – I was wearing W-Wrathia’s clothes-”

“Wh- _What?”_

“I don’t _know_ ,” she pulled her hands up from under the covers and rolled onto her back, pressing her palms against her eyes “I have dreams that I’m her sometimes, or that she’s me, and… I don’t know if they’re dreams all the time.”

“Th-That dream didn’t s-sound obvious,” he countered flatly, and Ava laughed dryly.

“It’s _always_ Wrathia, or TiTAN. One of those two, these days.” She rolled back over, blinking buds of lava from the corners of her eyes. “What about you?”

“I… w-well,” he picked at a loose thread on the blanket “I h-have nightmares ab-about my ph-ph-phobias, th-that’s all.”

“Should I know about them?”

“Wh-Why?”

“So that I don’t scare you on accident.”

He turned, an inkling of surprise in his expression. “I d-don’t r-really w-want to t-talk about it, but... l-later, maybe.”

“Alright.” She closed her eyes and settled her head on one of his pillows. They had been friends, or something like friends for a while now – he was more comfortable with her than the rest of the group, which was saying something – but there was an unseen boundary they were both determined not to cross.

This felt like they were crossing it.

However, the morning birds began to ebb and with Ava’s warmth flooding through the blankets, Odin let his eyes droop shut. It couldn’t hurt to rest a little while. It couldn’t hurt.

000

Tradition set in about a week later. Tactically, it made sense if they slept in the same bed. They were more comfortable, safer, secure – but there was something illicit about sleeping in the same bed with someone you were secretly attracted to; in the way Ava would hold his hands to keep them warm at night, or how he’d let her lean on his shoulder – bony as it was – while sleeping.

Habit was hard to kill though, and sentimentality and truth was always Odin’s undoing.

“I like your room,” she had told him one evening “you’ve got a great view of the forest from here.”

“I l-like my r-room too,” he replied “p-probably why its _m-my_ room.”

She threw a pillow at him good-naturedly, but soon when they couldn’t sleep, nightly talks took place. In the face of her dreams, her good dreams – _the cottage will be surrounded by poppies, and I won’t even mind when the rabbits eat my flowers, because I like rabbits too_ – he began confessing his own dreams. He whispered them as though there were sinful, selfish. He spoke to her under the thick quilt and hoped his firefly would keep her tongue behind her teeth and keep his secrets as secrets.

He wasn’t sure when he began thinking of her as his firefly.

“Where’d you get this one?” she asked, brushing a fingertip down the corner of his jaw – there was a scar there, hidden by the scruff. He flinched.

“I g-got on Olai’s bad side and he sh-shoved me into th-the counter. I th-think I w-was f-f-fourteen at the t-time.”

Ava frowned, but didn’t comment. Instead, she nestled a little closer and began tracing the pattern on his shirt. He liked the feel of it, like a warm touch wandering all over – a smile just barely quirked the corners of his mouth and he began to relax.

“M-My mom h-had a miscarriage once. B-Before I w-was born.” Ava kept tracing, but her movements slowed. “Olai s-said th-that should’ve b-been me.”

He remembered on more than one occasion, going to the tiny grave outside. There was no name, only a date, and his mother would often drop birdseed and flowers there when the grey in her eyes outweighed her smile.

“That’s terrible,” she whispered, and he didn’t meet her gaze, keeping his eyes shut.

“I’m th-the least of m-my family, Ava.”

“Well, you’re the most to _me_ ,” and in a moment of bravery she pecked a kiss on his chin and rolled over. Odin jolted a little, eyes now open and wide, but she was looking the other direction – instead of letting her get away with that, he pulled her close and was the big spoon in their arrangement.

They had both woken up early the next morning, and Odin had teased Ava about it – aim a little higher next time, firefly – they shoved and whispered and laughed, holding each other’s hands.

The door crept open. Raven was standing in the doorway, holding Odin’s old fox doll. “Ah – Odin, Ava… are you awake?”

Ava rolled and Odin sat up a little. “Wh-What’s the m-matter?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong, I just – I thought, maybe-” Ava rolled her eyes a little, Arrows and their pride “-you know, if you were awake, we could hang out a little.”

Odin watched with a surreal sensation building behind his shoulders, in his chest, swelling, as Ava scooted and patted the space between them. Raven blinked and didn’t move at first, weighing whether or not this would damage her reputation, before shuffling onto the bed between them.

“Shove over, Odin.”

“If I sh-shove over any f-further I’ll f-fall off.”

Eventually, in the combination of Ava’s warmth and Odin’s familiar voice speaking, Raven had fallen back into a light slumber.

“Should we carry her back to her room?” Ava asked, brushing a hair out of her face that was tickling her nose. Odin watched the movement, before shaking his head.

“L-Let her sl-sleep.”

He pulled the blanket up.

“W-We should sleep a l-little longer, too.”

Ava didn’t complain, but held his hand over the covers as she drifted back asleep. She was always so tired all the time, and he began to worry over her in the same way his father used to chastise his mother, giving her mugs of tea before bed.

With that thought in mind, drifting back to sleep, he decided if he could gain back the warmth in his bed in the little ways, then he would do just that.

They slept well.


	10. smoke chases fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written in exchange with a good friend. felt like posting it since its not half bad

It had been years.

Ava was standing at possibly one of her least favorite places on this current planet – since her binding with Wrathia, she had little patience for the cold, or for wet climate. She wasn’t entirely certain why she decided to stand on the chilly beach, feeling the grit between her toes, clinging to the flats of her feet.

A wave hit a nearby outcropping of rock and sprayed her. She didn’t flinch, but her eyes flared for a moment in response, before she walked forward until she was nearly knee deep in the water.

It was cold. Her skirt was getting wet. The clouds overhead drenched the world in a sheet of dull, grey light, the entire beach somber and dead.

Why was she here?

 _I’m here_ , she thought carefully _because I should get used to the cold._

She had found other hosts. Only a handful wanted to help her in her journey, and their relationship went no further than that – allies through a cause. They only traveled together when they needed to, otherwise, they were a scattered bunch, godly demons peppered throughout the galaxy, similar through circumstances alone.

Ava had learned to travel alone. At first, she had forcefully dragged three other hosts with her, but she had long since opened her hand and let them scatter, as they weren’t of any use anyway. Who needs enemies with allies that bite and scream? No, she didn’t need that kind of stress.

She trudged back onto the shore, squeezing water from her skirt.

One of them had been staying with her for a little longer – out of curiosity or a mission, or something more personal, she wasn’t sure, and she didn’t ask. She didn’t need pesky details. She needed results, and he had been providing them in more ways than one.

Her chest squeezed strangely when she recalled Odin’s face, thinned, tired, constantly leery of her and everything around him. Did she miss him? Naturally.

They used to talk as they traveled. Nothing entirely personal, and when it was personal the topic was glazed over carefully and buried by another subject. One thing they could agree on was never getting too close, and they both knew why.

Ava kept Wrathia in a chokehold in her mind, but Odin was frightened of Pedri. He hated him, but spite and pride only drove a man so far before honest to god instincts kicked in and he’d cave inwards like a fist closing at Pedri’s threats. Ava did what she could, but Pedri paid little attention to her and more who she had – he pestered, he threatened, he pulled at Odin’s mind like a pile of intricate threads until Odin was taut.

She remembered Odin’s careful words – he had been rehearsing, licking his lips anxiously, squaring himself up after days of barely saying anything to her.

“I c-can’t travel with you anymore.”

Her response? Nothing.

She didn’t say a thing.

Wrathia’s power had taught her speech, fantastic and cruel words could drip from her like lava from the mouth of a volcano, but the consequences of those words had taught Ava silence as well.

She had only nodded. Handed him his things. Didn’t speak.

He had been trembling. She was startled at that, how his knuckles were white with tension – she was aware that he might’ve been afraid of her, but he should’ve known by now she wouldn’t raise a hand against him.

She began taking his things out of her bag, as they had been mixing them up lately, and she briefly hesitated at his ring – she scooped it up and placed it in his bag silently before tying the top firmly. Don’t think. Don’t say. Don’t feel.

“…s- _say_ something, w-would you?”

His words were hard, and brittle, like if she didn’t say the right thing they would fracture in his throat and he’d never speak to her again. It was a strange sensation, her eyes focusing on his strained throat where he was holding something back – tears? Yelling? She didn’t know.

She opened her mouth, inhaling a short breath to speak, before her words faltered and she thought better of it, drawing back at the desperation in his eyes. She was still holding onto his new jacket, and for fear of burning it, she handed it to him – when his fingers curled around the collar their fingers brushed, and she replied gently “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

She must’ve said the wrong thing, because something in his gaze split like the hairline crack in a mirror. His eyes widened, mouth opened slightly, and he backed away. He didn’t say anything to her as he hastily gathered his things and practically ran away, and she buried the hurt behind one of her endless drawers and tried not to think of it, tried not to think of his heavy footfalls growing fainter and fainter or how his scent eventually vanished off her clothes.

Traveling alone was preferred from that moment on, save for the occasional girlfriend or boyfriend. Ava discovered she was still a person, and she could still fall in love, strangely enough – she had been going steady with someone for a while now, and she had already said goodbye and left them at their home nearby.

Ava’s skirt was finally drying a little, and she picked up her only bag and began walking away. She had a ship hidden away somewhere around here, and she had recently received a message from one of the other hosts that they were planning on meeting and concocting a final plan as to how to kill TiTAN once and for all.

 _Naïve_. TiTAN was not just a creature, but an idea, an ideology – Gil was right in his initial introduction to Maggie. TiTAN was a way of life, and life would not be denied without a fight.

However, she had Wrathia, and she had been the one to introduce the hosts to each other, so they were anxious about having her nearby. They all knew about her fiasco at TiTAN HQ, and her many other explosions after that, and while many sought her presence for her mind, most of them wanted protection in case any of the local rats caught scent of their meeting.

There was no comradery among these hosts. They were all just people, all dragged in by their ankles into this situation, and most of them didn’t get along. They all just played nice.

Ava activated her ship.

They were all predators in a cage, biding their time against the bigger threat – she knew for a fact once TiTAN was dead, all those teeth would bare towards her, and they would rip her to shreds.

She shrugged it off. It was her way to take blows as they came, and it wasn’t like she was planning on sticking around once TiTAN was dead.

Dust had gathered at the interior of her ship, and she slapped a coat off the seat in the cockpit. It was an empty ship – nothing was inside but its sole passenger, and she set in the coordinates she needed before indulging herself.

After the ship split the stars, Ava played some music, and she waited.

XxxX

She was interested to find Gil and Maggie with the hosts. By their behavior, they were both endlessly nervous, but it looked like they were here of their own free will – Ava was, once again, unsurprised. There was only so much running a host could do against their demon before they grew tired and succumbed.

Ava took a special kind of pride in knowing she waited till the last possible second before pacting.

Gil’s eyes popped out comically when he saw Ava approaching the meeting room, a small cabin off in the middle of nowhere on an uninhabited planet. The leaves crunched underfoot as she neared, the fire in her veins sparking a little to alert the other hosts of her presence. Automatically, her eyes flicked up and tracked who was nearby – there were five other hosts not including herself whom she could see.

She made a grunting noise in the back of her throat. That was nearly all of them, actually – who were they missing?

The memory of piercing dark eyes and thinned cheeks invaded her mind for a moment and she pushed it aside harshly. Of course _he_ wouldn’t show up. Maybe Pedri had killed him already – but that thought struck her as cruel, and she backpedaled. He left traveling with her for fear of Pedri overtaking his mind and what he wanted. He wouldn’t come to keep himself safe.

Ava, on the other hand, had no regard for whether she was hurt. None of it would matter once her pact was completed, so she threw herself into danger with wrath prickling her veins and heatedly skewing the rationality of her choices, and she’d live with the consequences, no matter how terrible they may be.

“Ava,” Gil greeted shakily, hands trembling at his sides. He pulled them behind his back so she wouldn’t see. “It’s been… a while.”

“Yes,” she agreed neutrally, eyes half lidded and sharp teeth hidden under a careful thinned mouth. She eyed him – he was older, as they were all older, but there was still that frustratingly immature smile on his face. “How’s Nevy?”

“Oh, she’s – she’s fine…”

Ava turned to look at Maggie, and Maggie braced herself in anticipation for a fight. Many times after the massacre at HQ they had clashed, but Ava’s relentless wrath granted her victory every time. When it was happening, in the moment, she had felt satisfaction before guilt, and now, she had no desire to quarrel. There was nothing to gain from it.

She only nodded once towards Maggie and the girl relaxed.

“Is everyone here?” she asked aloud to anyone who would answer, stepping into the shoddy cabin “I managed to send out a fake signal to catch the attention of any rats so we have a couple hours, maybe a day – but only at best. We need to be fast.”

“Y-You always were on the g-go.”

Ava dropped her things in the doorway and tried to hide how surprised she was. Looking up, inclining her head to the stairs, he was standing there – arms crossed leisurely, eyes dark, frame still sharp and angled – he was a bit more violet under the skin, and his teeth flashed red as the flesh of a pomegranate. He pacted.

She tilted her head a little to look at him, pupils dilating to see him better in the dark, and he stepped out into the light in response.

“…Odin.”

“A- _Ava_.”

The greeting was warm, and she had anticipated nothing but the cold of indifference from these hosts. It sent an unexpected shiver down her spine and she spun around to urge the other hosts to step inside, and she hoped the uncertainty in her chest didn’t show on her skin.

She convinced herself that she was imagining it – how his eyes tracked her, how, in spite of the stutter, he seemed more self-assured in his phrases. He said what he meant, and she said what she felt – during the discussion, this led to a kind of strange duality between them. An unspoken agreement to work together.

Between Ava’s sharp teeth and Maggie threatening to sick the local flora on them all if they didn’t behave, they managed to make a gameplan, and decided to sleep for the night and meet up a month later at another location to continue. Working around TiTAN was a slow process, and Ava was impatient – but she reminded herself so was Wrathia, and that soothed her nerves.

She would not be her demon.

Speaking of her demon, she should notify her what had happened, the plan so far, just so the creature would stop harping her for a little while. As the other hosts piled into different corners, Ava stepped out into the night and stopped short in the doorway, seeing Odin sitting on a stump and smoking. The leaves of the trees seemed to creep over him like the great claws of a beast.

Her fingers curled around the doorway and she ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth, feeling their serrated edge and frowning. She wasn’t a coward, but she had been through enough skirmishes due to her temper tantrums to know potential trouble when she saw it. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with some old emotions – but before she could go back inside, Odin turned and saw her, and something like a smile blossomed.

Such a familiar face, her eyes automatically tracked the slope of his nose down his mouth, down his throat – she blinked and refocused on his eyes. Still that same caution on a hunger-panged frame, all angles and sharpness – except for that smile.

“H-Hi.”

She didn’t step out for a moment, tentative, suspicious. Odin’s mouth quirked. She really was a predator.

“I d-don’t bite.”

Her expression went slack with disapproval at the teasing tone he had, but she stepped out, barefoot and strangely exposed. She had already ran her relationship with Maggie into the ground and crushed it till there was nothing there, nothing to mourn; but she remembered _s-say something would you_ and her heart twisted.

There was still something to lose, here, and she wasn’t sure what.

She sat a few feet away, fiddling with her key, the wicked metal gleaming in the dark. Odin watched her from the corner of his eye as she opened her pact and spoke to Wrathia, all in Vengess-tongue, before she shut it and spun around, teeth baring.

“Is there something you _want_? I don’t appreciate people _staring_ at me.”

“Y-You can sp-speak Vengess,” he replied, and to his credit he didn’t sound too awkward “did y-you-?”

“I studied it and practiced with Wrathia. TiTAN doesn’t know Vengess. It’s a good backup language in case someone might be listening.”

Odin exhaled another plume of smoke, something bitter settling under his ribs.

“And… I w-was listening.”

“You were,” she replied, looking forward, at the strange plant-life growing.

She didn’t trust him. He wasn’t sure why that mattered, and he sucked in another breath from his pipe – Ava watched, curious.

“Why do you still smoke if you’re pacted?”

He stopped and rolled his shoulders. “H-Habit, I guess.”

Silence dominated the conversation, nothing but Odin’s breathing taking up the space. He tried to track her breaths, but he wasn’t sure she even was breathing, if she needed to – she was deeper in the pact than he was, horns cresting her skull, lights in her skin and a sort of fire in her marrow – he wasn’t sure he’d ever catch up to her.

He remembered what she’d said _– I hope you find what you’re looking for._

That’s why he _left_ , actually. He saw what he wanted in front of him, handing him his jacket with that familiar softness, fingers brushing his, and he was too cowardly to pursue it.

He wanted her, so badly. He wanted to dig up the buried personal conversations and polish them till they gleamed, he wanted to understand how it was that she was so _awful_ and still managed to smile and make his heart stagger.

He had left because he saw what he wanted, and he was afraid.

For months he wandered, occasionally visiting home to send credits and to check on his family, all the while Pedri crept in his shadow and hissed _coward_ in his ear till his skin burned with frustration.

Then, he saw Ava again.

She didn’t see him, of course, he was off on the roof of a building taking a smoke of a random backwater planet, but he saw her down below. She was with a couple people – laughing, joking, smile flashing wickedly –  he nearly dropped his pipe in surprise. He thought, maybe, this would be a good time to try and mend the bridge he burned. He never forgot about her, not really – she lingered in the back of his mind, the aftertaste of a fruit he had never partook in.

One of the people in her group was a sharp looking girl, and she had kissed Ava’s throat and Ava’s cheeks burst with hot color before they kept moving.

Odin didn’t move. Something in him deflated, and he was quick to chastise himself as he watched her red hair muddle in the colorful crowd. He had girlfriends and boyfriends in the time they had last seen each other – not many, not at all, more often than not short encounters – but seeing that she was also growing in that area was shocking somehow.

Pedri tormented him for weeks after he didn’t chase after her.

What was worse was that it kept _happening_. He’d see Ava, somewhere, out of the corner of his eye, and he’s want to talk, want to speak, want to touch her and see if his feelings were still the same – but it was always the wrong time. She was with someone, or her claws were bloody, or he had someone on his lap whispering sweetly in his ear and he hadn’t the time to go chasing after her – but now it was just the two of them.

It felt like he was always chasing after her, and she had no idea. She was always looking forward while he was behind her, struggling whether or not to catch up, whether it was worth it.

Where there was fire, there was smoke lingering behind.

He sucked in another breath and exhaled, fantastic tendrils spiraling the air and scattering around them.

He was contacted by another host who had been following him, ironically enough. They wanted all the hosts together to kill TiTAN, and Odin, sick of Pedri sinking his teeth into the matter of his mind, agreed. They could meet at his old cabin.

Waiting, waiting, waiting – he saw the other hosts, a few familiar faces, but he was waiting for her to show up.

Her brilliance when she stepped in through the door was both blinding and completely underwhelming. It was still Ava, still the girl who moved like her wrists were dislocated, still the girl who gave out sarcastic glances like free fliers – but there was something more. No longer was she was frightened fifteen-year-old or the murderer who had gone totally ballistic – she had filled in, framed out, and she was her own woman. She was still short, but when he walked into the light, she no longer had to arch her head back completely to talk to him.

In a rare moment of pain, Odin wondered if his own little sisters had grown any taller. They might shoot up like him, the spindly weed, or maybe they’d look like actual people.

He startled when Ava plucked the pipe from his lips. “I think that’s enough for now,” she suggested, pressing it back into his palm, and he glowered.

“B-Bossy.”

“Florem Mortem makes me think of Wrathia,” Ava confessed quietly, looking aside “she never stops smoking it.”

He emptied his pipe and put it away with more haste than he’d want to admit, slipping it into his jacket pocket. “S-So,” he braided his fingers together “…h-how’ve you been?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the headlines,” she snickered, waving a clawed hand idly, leaning back on the log. Bit of bark charred under her hands.

“T-TiTAN shows p-people what he wants them t-to see,” Odin countered “I’m asking ab-about you.”

She watched him for another moment. His teeth were such a striking red she had to remind herself it was the bone, and he hadn’t any blood in his mouth.

Not any she could see, anyway.

“I’ve been around. I’ve explored a lot, lately,” she replied softly, the sharp shards of wrath receding from her tone. “Found a lot of great places. One of my favorite planets has a sea, though, I don’t like it all that much,” she finally smiled, the expression worn and eroded due to years of snarling at her enemies, but Odin treasured it all the same “it’s too cold over there.”

“Th-Then whys it y-your f-favorite?”

Ava steeled herself. She bent her back a little, leaning her elbows on her knees. Her eyes flicked up to his, bright eyes, and she replied evenly “My partner lives there.”

When he nodded, considerate and silent, she turned away. He asked “D-Do you… l-live there, too?”

“Sometimes. I told them about my pact,” Ava brushed her hair back “so… it’s been weird lately. They need time to think. I don’t mind.”

When he didn’t respond, Ava didn’t look at him, but upwards, towards the sky and the stars. “What about you? Haven’t heard a peep since you left.” She felt him tense, but she didn’t stop speaking. “Did you find what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” He brushed the ashes of his pipe off his knees, where they singed his pants in places. He had left them earlier, but now he felt like he needed to do something that wasn’t just staring at the possibility he fumbled. His jacket felt restricting, choking, and he wanted to peel it off but also didn’t want to send the wrong message.

“Are you gonna tell me? Or is it another secret?” He kept so many of those. She didn’t have the energy to care about the ones he hid away, or the ones he slipped her in casual conversation – it was tiring trying to pick up the pieces he scattered around her, so, she wouldn’t press.

“A s-secret,” he replied.

They sat silently before Ava’s communicator beeped, and she shuffled it out of her pocket. Odin watched her, wondering if it was a cue for them to scatter, or if it was just an alarm – but a soft smile burst from her face and she rolled her eyes before slipping her phone away.

“S-Something funny?”

“Just a text,” she assured. It had read _God please come home soon this bed is freezing_ and she couldn’t hold back her humor or her relief. “I make a good bedwarmer.”

“I kn-know.”

The conversation changed, then – she tried not to let her heart leap into her throat but it did, and she choked on it as Odin tried to think of a way to take those words back and eat them up, hide them forever. They never slept together intimately, but in spite of Ava’s colder recollections of their relationship he recalled the times when they shared a bed too sharply, too real, and he stood up.

“I uh – th-think w-we should go to b-bed. W-We have to g-get up early tomorrow.”

“Go ahead,” she waved a hand idly – he remembered her aversion to sleep and frowned – “Hey.” He blinked at her friendly tone. “It was… it’s good to see you again.”

Warmth burst in his gut and he resented it. Honesty was always his undoing. “I m-missed you.”

Their scents intermingled the air like they used to, ashes and smoke, sweet heat and metallic cold. They were a _something_ , a _could have been_ , and they stepped no further than that as Odin’s hands itched to touch her. Yearning yawned its jaws open in his chest; his palm was still warm where she pushed his pipe into it.

She was so familiar to be around, and not, at the same time.

As they exchanged a final glance, they both ached to have been present during those vital years apart, to see how the other one was built – but instead, mouths shut, they waved as Odin stepped back inside.

Ava stared into the night sky and thought not of her familiar bed, but of hands fumbling a coat and _say something say something_ – Odin stood just inside the door and recalled soft words soft hands _I hope you find what you’re looking for._

They both, separately, took a breath, and walked away.

Smoke and fire.

A choice was a choice and the universe would form around it – as they both digested the events of that night, neither could say if it was good or bad. Ava had anticipated the cold and was instead greeted with warmth, and Odin had once again opened his hands and let his chances scatter between his fingers.

Before Ava stepped inside, she realized: he was wearing the same jacket she handed him on that day they parted.

She shook her head with a hollow laugh and closed the door.


	11. Narcissism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for blood, gore, and vial!odin generally being sinister

Ava didn’t see the destruction firsthand.

They had been pinned in a tight spot, split up into the worst groups – Ava had been trapped with Maggie, and Gil with Odin, and they had both been fighting desperately trying to cleave their two teams together again through the flash of the elite’s soulless eyes and the dull red glow of a scavenger iris focusing on them. It was all out war, and in a moment of swelling panic, trying to find Gil’s hair in the fray or Odin’s pale skin, she remembered something.

“ _Only if you have to, if it’s your very last option_ ,” she had instructed, and carefully pushed the thin, wickedly violet vial into Odin’s open palm. He kept it in his pact, and they hadn’t mentioned it since.

A tarry black talon swept down and knocked Ava in the head. Pain struck her like a bolt as she heard something _crack_ , and she spun around with unfocused eyes, heat licking the inner walls of her mouth as she exhaled pure fire in an attempt to cast back the scavengers surrounding her. They drew back like serpents, coiled and hissing, before creeping back forward. Blood spilled over her brow and she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel it from blocking her view of the enemy.

The blow was fatal – she couldn’t die, but her body begged for relief as her form sluggishly crumpled to the bloody ground, her grip on her axe going lax, and just before her eyes fluttered shut, she could almost hear it.

“A-Ava!”

Then the world spun to black.

Ava awoke a few hours later. She wasn’t sure where she was at first, because of all the smoke, but the scent of blood and hydraulic fluid hit her nose and she scooted up. Her fingers dug into dry dirt as she tried to focus, rubbing at her eyes. The wound on her head was mended nicely, but dry blood stuck to her face and she tried to scratch it off with her claws.

“Maggie?” her words were thick, her tongue rolling in her mouth clumsily like wet clay.

There was no response. Her voice echoed eerily, and she inhaled and called out for her companion a little louder. When her only reply was her own echo, Ava stood and tried to wander around, her hands bumbling into weird stakes in the ground. Her ankles kept brushing arrows stuck into the dry dirt, and the ground was bumpy with mounds. The biggest suspicion was Maggie’s plant work or Gil etching and eroding the ground with his water powers, but, the smoke was thick as fog, and it hurt to breathe.

“Odin?” she called aloud, looking around her – “Hello?”

A hand settled on her shoulder, pressing fingertips into the skin, and she spun around viciously baring her teeth. Her eyes settled on familiar features, and some not so much, as the hand lingered there on her shoulder. Dark claws pricked her skin as his hand ghosted up to her cheek, smearing something warm.

She didn’t recognize the jagged red teeth, or the twisting skin like chitin; nor did she recognize the cresting black horns or bird-like adornments he hung from his throat.

Ava looked into the stranger’s eyes, and there she found her answer.

“Odin?”

He smiled kindly, silently, caressing her cheek affectionately. She didn’t recognize the clothes he wore, shining like precious silver silks and only the finest of jewels across his body, only that she knew the worst had happened. Curled in his other hand was a wicked scythe, still dripping with blood.

He took his vial.

“What… _What_ have you _done?_ ” She couldn’t stop the tremor from trickling into her voice, and Odin noticed. His eyes were hooded as he took her by her shoulder and pressed her back to his chest, and he waved his scythe out lazily.

The smoke dispersed, and in its wake, she saw that each of the mounds on the ground had a stake or an arrow through the top – realization struck so violently she put her hands to her mouth to stop her gag reflex.

 _Graves_.

He had killed everyone and constructed his own crude graveyard, the smoke lingering around the corners of her eyes like it was a dream. He smiled again, and stroked her hair.

“ **Do you like it?** ” he murmured, his voice fat with ego, drunk on his own pride over the macabre monument he had constructed. He pushed her forward and they started walking. He was taller, and she had to take three steps for every one of his, but he went slowly.

“Where are you taking me?”

“ **If you liked this, you’ll love this next part** ,” he replied dreamily, his voice husky and strange, too confident too be Odin, too familiar to be anyone but – she wanted desperately to dig her heels into the ground and run away, and she searched her mind frantically for any way to dissuade him from showing her whatever he had done.

 _I don’t want to see_ , she thought desperately _I don’t want to see what he hides from me_.

“Ah-!” she put her hand to her throat “My key, I have to find it-”

Scarlet danced in her gaze and she saw he dangled it between his fingers. He looked at her helplessly, the adoration of a slightly annoyed friend who knew what was best for you – he laughed. It was the echo of a monster in her dear friend’s throat, and Ava was sickened that she knew her own giggle would have matched it when she took her vial.

“ **Really, Ava, you don’t want to see what I made? It’s the work of a true genius** ,” Ava went stiff “ **and I know you’ll like it. Who wouldn’t? It’s nearly perfect.** ” He took her by the wrist and pulled her forward. His grip slipped a little and she realized his dark claws were slick with blood. Her face was smeared and tacky with it where he had been cupping her face.

“ **I just need you to apply the finishing touches. You are good at that. I remember what you did with the Strategos’ sword** ,” he reminisced aloud, as though it was a happy childhood memory “ **I wonder if what I’ve done could possibly match what you did that day. Such a gravestone, the fallen sword of a fallen general**.”

Ava followed close behind him. Rot lingered in the stitches of his outfit, and the permeating scent of stardust burned her eyes, so she blinked often as she stumbled over grave after crude grave. These weren’t symbols of honor for the fallen, but a crass and haughty symbol of a man’s conquering over a war. There was nothing holy about this, or respectful, and she knew it as his clawed feet dug into the ground and she heard the _crunch_ of bone underfoot.

“ **I didn’t think about it at the time** ,” he continued, and it made Ava terribly nervous – Odin didn’t like the sound of his own voice and was a generally taciturn sort, even on his good side – “ **but all that ash you made back when you cut loose – how utterly fantastic, it was the ashes of people you had incinerated. Even the living carried the weight of the dead! You’re so clever, but I think I’ve _really_ outdone you here, Ava.** ”

She hadn’t thought about it either. Now remembering how she was caked with ash back in that day made her feel even sicker, and she clung to Odin tighter. At some point in time, this was her dear friend, and he was still in there yet – hopefully.

He glanced down to her, mouth puckered in a smile. It seemed like he _couldn’t_ frown with how his canines pushed against the corners of his mouth. “ **Excited? _Good_**.”

She wanted to snap that she wasn’t excited, she was scared, and to beg for him to cut this out – but they had arrived.

He had skewered elite corpses to one of TiTAN’s symbols on the nearby building, their blood streaking and staining the walls underneath. Ava had seen plenty of corpses in her day, but the blatant disregard for their bodies, contorted and forced to fit within the emblem, was still enough to make her knees feel weak.

Odin stood behind her and slipped his hands around to her front, humming happily. “ **Light it for me**.”

Her rigid muscles were already aching with tension, and her breathing hitched when his mouth pressed against her ear, teeth brushing the shell. “ ** _Light it_ for me, Ava**.”

Fear snaked through her bones, and though she knew she could take him in a fight, even like this, she held out her hand and willed the corpses to catch fire.

They took to the fire well, burning steadily, lenses popping out and armor crumpling inward. Ava stared, mortified, _why didn’t I just say no, why didn’t I run, why can’t I run-_

He stabbed his scythe into the ground next to them, making a little system of cracks akin to a spider-web in the ground, and Ava yelped. He laughed again, eyes shining affectionately as he backed away enough to stand next to her, before taking her hand.

“ **Isn’t it amazing? It took far less magic than your little show back at headquarters, but I think a burning effigy _really is_ the way to end events like these**.”

“Events like what?” she asked, and to her credit, her voice didn’t shake at all, but held the hardness of the girl who grew up with a demon etching pressure marks in her mind. Odin’s smile only grew wider at her biting tone.

“ **These sacraments of yours after winning a good fight. It feels so good to let them know their _place_ , these TiTAN rats**,” he sighed and traced the claw of his thumb around her palm “ **and to celebrate so _artistically_.** ”

Ava’s hand pulled oddly where he played with it, as though he was pulling off the skin from a sunburn.

“ **Are you enthralled? I know _I_ am! It took a lot of angling to get those worthless bodies to hang correctly. You should appreciate the effort I put into impressing you** ,” he smirked, raising his brows smugly. She had seen the echo of the expression on him when he gloated about a good shot while hunting, or talking about his family, but the arrogance was never this painful, never this fatal.

She couldn’t stare at it for long, so she looked up, staring at the burning corpses. Embers flew off and clung to her clothes.

“I’m certainly feeling _something_ right now, Odin…” she replied quietly, and worry plagued her expression when she glanced back to him. He was going to regret this. He was going to remember being a heartless monster and it was going to haunt him forever. “Why did you take your vial? Why now?” _Why would you ever do this to yourself?_

Odin reached out, and Ava didn’t draw back. She wasn’t afraid of monsters, or their power over her heart. Instead, she felt a bit of surprise when he cupped the back of her head tenderly, fingers tracing her scalp to feel the mending skin from where she had been knocked out.

“ **You fell** ,” he whispered, guttural “ **and I rose**.”

A falling limb startled her when the joints of a corpse burned up, collapsing to the ground with a thud, pushing the smoke away like water for a moment before the cloak of smog overtook the ground once more.

“ **I really can’t wait till TiTAN sees this** ,” he gloated, using his hand behind her head to pull her face towards his chest, the embrace of a lover “ **it’s really going to knock him off his throne. Of course, I should’ve made a throne! That would’ve worked. We’ll do that _next time_.** ”

“Next time?” Ava pushed her palms against his chest and backed up a few feet, stumbling on the mounds underneath her. “There – There isn’t going to be a next time, Odin!”

“ **Of _course_ there will. Because you’re a monster** ,” he swept down onto one knee and caught her hand, pressing his cheek against it “ **and I’d do anything for you, you know I would. That’s what makes me so _great_. That’s why you trust me. That’s why you _love_ me, Ava**.” He glanced up, and his eyes were cold with indifference. Her heart caught in her throat – she never confessed anything to him in all their time as friends. Was it so obvious that this demon could see it? “ **I’ll follow you to the ends of the universe, and I’ll give us something to remember after every fight we win.** ”

The implications of his words set her throat ablaze. “Don’t,” she whispered, her throat closing – he kissed her palm. The pose of a knight and his princess with the smell of burning corpses enwrapping them both, the sacrilegious image of true love; a dark knight and his soon-to-be bride, marked with blood under her cheeks and on her palms where he kissed her dearly, the heretic’s promise.

“ **You wanted someone to understand you** ,” he remarked, voice swelling, and he yanked her down so Ava spilled onto her knees in front of him. He took her by the chin and pulled her face up, before smiling wide. “ **Be careful what you wish for, because _I do_**.”

He kissed her.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but tasting the blood on his lips and seeing the insufferable self-righteous gleam as he stroked her cheek, Ava considered that it could be the last.

“ ** _I do_** ,” he repeated quietly, and his face fell against her throat as the last of his power secreted back away into his pact. Ava’s arms flew up to hold him, and to settle his head on her lap while the power receded from his body, leaving him exhausted.

 

It was raining. Odin hated the rain, and he wanted to go back to sleep, or maybe to snap back awake and find somewhere else to nap out of the sprinkling across his face.

“I’m sorry. Oh Odin, I’m so _sorry_.”

Who was speaking?

“F-For what…” he mumbled, trying to reach up and rub his face clean of the rain – his eyes fluttered open and Ava sat above him, stroking his hair.

The tears falling freely from her eyes cut streaks through the dried blood on her cheeks. She was sobbing above him, holding his head, blocking his view from anything else but her.

“A-Ava…? Are y-you okay?” He reached out and fumbled to hold her cheek like he’d do when she would panic in the night, and froze to see dark claws tipping his fingers.

The memories came back like a hailstorm, aching and loud, a cacophony of pain in his ears as he gasped – blood on his hands. Laughing as he cracked spine after spine. The glee and pride he felt running his fingers down a soldier’s face and their life ghosting out of them. _Light it for me_ –

“Don’t,” Ava grasped his face firmly “look at me, don’t – don’t think about it. Just look at me.”

His eyes found the bloody handprints he left on her face, and he tried to pull back, but Ava held him firmly. “Maggie and Gil are coming back with a transport. Don’t look.”

“L-Look?” his eyes dragged from Ava’s gaze to behind her, trying to focus on what was black and burnt, but she yanked his face back to hers.

“Odin please,” her voice cracked, and more tears threatened to break free. “You didn’t let me see the damage I did on TiTAN HQ, let me do this for you. Keep your eyes on me. _Please_.”

She was practically begging him, and that was nettling under his ribs. What had he done? _What had he done?_

He did something to her. What did he do?

“A-Ava, wh-what did I d-do to you?” Her gaze fractured, the hairline crack in a mirror, and another tear spilled down her cheek. She shook her head and held his against her chest, his nose pressed firmly – almost painfully – up against the wood of her pact. She wouldn’t let him move or see the damage he had done, and when Gil and Maggie arrived with the transport, they dragged him inside too fast to see.

He wanted to see what he had done, but he could see the damage in the uneasy gaze of his companions as the transport roared to life underneath them.

 


	12. more graves than one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> update word vomit

Hardened slag and the burnt fingerbones of their followers served as Six’s tomb.

At first, they didn’t move. _Couldn’t_ , actually, with the tight grip of magic infused corpses pulling at them, peeling them apart; but eventually the burning around them cooled. Whatever rage had pulled them six feet under was extinguished, or in the very least, moving away, apparently done with them. The game was over – they lost.

Fingers grappled with stone. Their eyes burned, tears flooding along the surface as dust and stone scratched the lenses protecting their eyes. They had to see what happened.

They should’ve been focusing on escaping. When they breathed, the artificial larynx in their throat seemed to go concave a little each time, and the harsh memory of that girl rushed through their mind like a flood, unbidden.

She was so small. This was supposed to be easy, damn it all-! She was such an easy target, she stood out, she wasn’t satisfied with her life, and it was all written on her face. The gates were supposed to change her, make an example of her and save her.

She wasn’t someone worth saving, it seemed – that, or she was completely content with not ever reaching salvation. Either way the gates were destroyed.

They clawed at the stone. Beat at it. They shoved their whole body into reaching the surface, and when their hands finally broke through the crust, hands pulling palmfuls of ashes as they yanked themselves through the surface, they couldn’t see.

Everything was grey, and their lenses we were direly misshapen from the heat and scraped with the hardened stone, they could do nothing but crawl out like a pathetic little rat and heave breaths desperately. Finally looking up, cupping their brow – they favored their right eye more, the left swollen with bits of lens drifting about their corneas – the remains of that girl’s chaos were left behind. An effigy of her triumph, or simply a scar of her work? The shadow of the statue loomed over them, gigantic, impossibly tall.

_Fix this. I have to fix this._

First, they tried to think of where to go, what to do, who to speak to, how to pick up the pieces – but the life they put every inch of their being to making perfect had completely crumbled around them. One misstep among a thousand flawless marathons completely devastated everything.

They slid their hand down their face.

Generals don’t cry – _it’s the broken lenses_ , they thought bitterly, because TiTAN’s General wouldn’t cry. Not even with a failure as terrible as this one.

_This is all her fault_ , they thought, throat thick with a sob they couldn’t possibly communicate through their mask.

_This is all my fault._

They slid their hand back down their face, exhaling shakily, unable to move. In fact, they were almost comforted by how grey everything was, how still.

In this moment, they couldn’t imagine stomaching the sight of any color, blue and red alike.

 

 

TiTAN used to love them once. Six knew this.

They remembered standing next to him, barely coming up to his hip, and listening to him explain the specs on the new masks he would have Six distribute to the other followers. They remembered the militaristic explanation, followed up with the passion in his voice swelling enough to rattle Six to the core.

“Do you think they’ll agree to it? The process,” he clarified, gigantic pearlescent roman helmet turning to look down at Six – he was a perfect idol.

“If they do not agree to it, it is a testament to their feeble faith. Those who are truly worthy know to put their full trust in you,” Titan’s hand swept past their cheek, delicately “as I have.”

“You are beginning to toe the line of absolute perfection, my Strategos,” his voice filled the room with the firm warmness of the church bell “and you will come to paradise with me, when the time is right.”

His hand cupped their cheek, his thumb rubbing Six’s left eyelid delicately. Their breathing hitched when Titan lowered himself down, to bump the mouthpiece of his helmet to the top of their head.

“Do not fail me,” he murmured softly.

“I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

_“I know.”_

The time for that thinly veiled affection had a season, it seemed, and it had passed into the frigid winter of TiTAN’s impossible expectations and his disappointed glower looking down at Six, now.

“…what happened back there, Strategos? You gave me your word things would go smoothly.”

_They’ve always gone smoothly, and I have always given you my word. This is just one failure, just one failure –_

But even one failure was too many in the eyes of their savior. Six didn’t meet his eye, and still couldn’t if they wanted to. Their lenses were still damaged too much to focus on something for long. To them, the room was simply a focused spotlight on TiTAN and themselves. It was an interrogation room.

“There was a girl.”

Titan watched them from where he sat up high, completely still. Six wished he would at least act a little dynamic, finger tapping, knee bobbing – but he was truly furious with his general, and Six had no choice but to recall the past events as best they could without once again digging their own grave.

“She was… imperfect. Obviously, so,” they added, braiding their fingers together “and I called her to be the follower for the free demonstration. I wanted to show the dynamic difference, of the power of the gates.”

“What did she look like?” Titan’s question caught them off guard. They assumed he would be scolding them for their impulsive, impatient nature once again.

“She had an unfortunate complexion,” they explained clearly as they could – they had their mask replaced and updated for the purpose of this meeting, but their throat was still raw – “her plasma appeared to be magma based, no doubt of alien origin.”

At the lack of a response, Six continued, with a little less confidence. Bravado and the façade of a preacher made General would not save them from his burning of Titan’s gaze on their neck. “After she broke through the gates of paradise, her appearance had changed completely. The clothes she wore were a strange texture, I couldn’t identify the make, and she had grown horns and claws – and teeth,” they added quietly. In the time they didn’t spend dreading this meeting, the visage of her sneering face and those sharp teeth had yet to leave them – the afterimage of staring at a flame too long, her smile was a shadow under their eyelids when they blinked.

“Continue.”

“Yes, sir. She seemed to have a strange contraption of some sorts implanted in her chest. She pulled a weapon out of it-”

“Stop.”

Six stopped talking as though they had gone mute. Titan leaned forward in his seat, interest peaked. Six noticed he had clamped a hand onto the massive armrest, and his elbow was trembling a little.

“…describe the implant on the girl’s chest.”

“From what I can recall, it looked like a drawer, of some sorts, with a pattern on it. She seemed to get her power from it, as it was glowing when she destroyed the stage.” Six wished they had focused on the little details more from the event. Even now they could feel hands on their ankles, and the girl’s foot on their face _– I have the stage now_ –

“She actually did it. That madwoman,” Titan leaned back, and to Six’s astonishment, he ran his hand down his face in a similar anxious fashion Six had done previously discovering the ruined stage. “That demon… I never thought she would go so far. It’s been fifteen years… is that what she was doing…”

Six wanted to ask who he was talking about, but they were already in hot water. Instead they stood there, shoulder’s squared, as Titan’s gaze drifted back down to them.

“…my Strategos.”

Six perked up.

“You will not be held accountable for the destruction of the stage and the crater in Headquarters.”

Dumbfounded, their heartbeat thudded in their ears. It wasn’t supposed to do that, but their internal regulators had been damaged badly by the heat and they tried to ignore the roar.

“But – it was _my fault_ ,” they put their hands up, astonished “I was the one who chose her-”

“You chose the one who looked like they needed perfection most, and you chose correctly. However, the girl from the audience is no doubt _infected_ with a demon I thought died many years ago. Ideally,” he chuckled, and the sound comforted Six a terribly intimate way “we could convert her… but it seems she’s a puppet for a much greater threat. For the moment, she’s our enemy.”

“Thank you, Titan, for your forgiveness, _hail_ – but can I ask who the girl is working for?”

“You can. Her name is Wrathia Bellarmina. You’ll find I scrubbed the records clean of her name in a baptism for the history books, but you can find information about her in my private files. It seems she’s dedicated her whole being to get revenge.” He sounded pained. “What a pity.”

A moment passed, Six memorizing the name to search through the archives – but Titan reached down and touched the remaining tuft of hair on their head with two fingers.

“I do not blame you for this fiasco,” Titan reassured “there is no way you could have defeated her.”

Six felt their blood run cold.

“No way?” they echoed in disbelief.

“Of course not. That girl is almost as powerful as me, Six. And you are not me.”

_You are not as perfect as me._

_You couldn’t have won._

Those words should have been comforting. The choice was correct, but the destruction was set in stone the moment that terrible little girl took a step up onto the stage.

It should have been comforting.

Instead, as Six was ushered aside by nurses and technicians to receive new implants, a terrible bitterness coiled around their insides at the thought, worming around wretchedly, going rotten.

_I will be perfect_ , they told themselves desperately _and she **will** know TiTAN’s glory._

They couldn’t stand to think otherwise.

 

After all, they had promised never to fail.


	13. Pride before the Fall (but like, the season)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been mostly writing scriptwork for personal stories or for commission, but I've been trying to kick myself back into gear to finish up and also start a couple AD fic concepts... here's just a warmup drabble I coughed up

Odin Arrow does not get jealous.

That was what all in the Arrow family told themselves in truth, to maintain that legacy of pride and pigheadedness that was so well known. No one in the family would dare admit that that they were anything but confident and cocky, and in an attempt to mimic his proud brother, Odin would follow that tradition to his dying breath.

So, naturally, when he spotted Ava still attempting to mend bridges with Maggie, he fought not to set his jaw and scowl.

It wasn’t that her attempts weren’t admirable, or that her and Maggie might’ve still had a chance at trying again; it wasn’t even that him and Maggie didn’t get along so well, or that she still snapped at Ava harsh enough to make even Odin flinch.

It was that Ava hadn’t noticed him yet.

He wasn’t trying to get her attention anyway, not in something that would be obvious enough that his family, bird-like in how they watched him, would notice. He only did favors for her, or noticed her when no one else was realizing the peril she was in when she was over-thinking or losing her temper.

And still, her first thought was to keep trying with Maggie, keep going back to Maggie – what drove her? Affection or guilt?

As he watched Ava attempting to talk to her for the millionth time, his heart squeezed, with the burning sensation of acid, as though he was biting back bile. His heart felt like it was souring, red meat shriveling brown and weeping black through the seams with his jealousy, and it wasn’t a sensation he was growing used to but one he denied he had in the first place. His emotions were mimicking the fall season, browning and rotting, dying under the cold conditions they were dealt with, but he wouldn’t admit it.

Arrows loved winter, metaphorical or otherwise; they thrived in the cold with bitter determination, whether that be in the snow that caked his homeworld or the cool indifference he told himself he felt when Ava directed her affections to someone who didn’t want them.

He wasn’t jealous.

Ava gave Maggie one of those smiles that could open sunflowers with its warmth, and when Maggie, predictably, snapped her head aside and told her she didn’t want to talk to a monster, Odin set his jaw and stood.

Not looking at either of them he meandered to another section of the ship’s bay, standing in the loading docks to smoke, attempting to ease his nerves.

Why was he so strung up about this? He’d had crushes before, albeit ones never quite this intense or strange, and with a bit of elbow grease and strong-arming he’d gotten over them.

Why couldn’t he get over Ava Ire?

_“If you think sucking on that pipe is going to smoke out your emotions, you’re mistaken; however if you’re looking for relaxation, dying would be beneficial to your mental health.”_

It didn’t help that for some reason, ever since he started harboring tendering affections for the fiery redhead, Pedri was on his case like flies to a carcass.

“F-fuck off.” He took another deep suck of his pipe, attempting to muddle Pedri’s words and instead stare out at the grey loading bay, studying the etched lines in the floor where cargo was pushed in and out enough to erode the glossy surface.

_“If it was up to me, boy, I would. Nevertheless that isn’t possible until you off your miserable life first.”_ His wraith spoke from the shadows, looming like a fortress.

Odin exhaled a mouthful of smoke, the violet fumes gathering around his mouth like ink blooming in water. “N-Not happening.”

_“You’re a coward.”_

“O-oh, tell me another,” he tapped his pipe, watching tiny cinders shuffle within.

_“Anyone can comprehend the denial of fact and truth for the means of manipulation, but you deny such honesty to yourself in a petty attempt to pretend you’re not as vulnerable as really are.”_

“Wh-when did you b-become an armchair th-therapist,” he snapped, squinting at Pedri with an accusatory glance.

_“Your pathetic excuse for something akin jealousy is hindering my wife’s progress. Get it over with, confess and have your feelings crushed before you bumbling about in an attempt to act aloof distracts her too much and she loses sight of her mission.”_

He paused, “…y-you’re talking about- about _Ava_??? Sh-she’s not your _wife_.”

_“She harbors someone dear to me. Get your act together before I get it together for you.”_

The threat hit harder than he’d admit it did. “I d-don’t have to f-follow your orders, you know.”

Pedri reached out, long fingers fanned out as he planted his palm to Odin’s head and attempted to possess him, trying to force him to scatter ashes and cinders into his open eyes. However, Arrow determination wasn’t just a façade, and he instead forced himself with gritted teeth to drop the pipe down over the edge into the loading bay – where it bounced off Ava’s head, who was just walking in.

She yelped, holding her head. “I-I didn’t mean to do th-that, give me a moment-“ Odin whirled around, coming face to face with Pedri – or more like his chest, where the wraith loomed over him angrily.

He deadpanned, almost amused at how pissed the ghost was.

“…Y-you just did the opposite of wh-what you wanted to do, I’ll be d-damned.”

_“We’ll all be damned together at this rate,”_ he smacked Odin upside the head, who scowled and made to jog down into the bay, picking up his pipe and picking ash out of Ava’s hair.

“It’s really alright, Odin,” she smiled sadly as she picked the ashes out, “I can get it.”

He paused at her crestfallen expression, “I-I r- _really_ didn’t mean to… d-drop the pipe on you – you kn-know that, right?”

She paused at the earnest note in his voice, drawing hellfire eyes to his. He swallowed hard, managing the shadow of a smile as his sockets seemed to burn maintaining eye contact with her for so long.

“…okay- yeah, I believe you.”

He hadn’t heard those words in a long time, not since Pedri’s possessions became too lifelike and his family decided he was just crazy or faking it. The core of his chest thawed a bit as Ava smiled his direction, “I was gonna go watch the stars pass by the ship’s window, do you wanna come join me?”

“I’ve s-seen sights like th-that a million times,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug, following along regardless.

“Yeah, but I grew up on a TiTAN-education planet… and there was so much smog anyway it was hard to see the stars planetbound anyway.”

“O-On my home planet-” what was he saying this? He never tried to talk about himself so much before “-when the clouds clear, th-the stars are so c-crisp it’s like you can touch them.”

They neared a window, where the light of the stars cast a soft glow to Ava’s new sharp angles, and she drew her gaze back to his. “Really?”

He nodded smugly, relighting his pipe and biting into the mouthpiece, enjoying the moment.

“Why did you ever leave?”

“…uh,” he scratched the back of his head, “th-that’s… private. H-had things to do.”

“You’re not ever going to tell me your reasons for being here, are you?” The helpless, almost scolding and frustrated tone which she presented that question made Odin feel even more like an incompetent idiot – naturally she wasn’t going to give attention to someone she knew nothing about, her and Maggie had burned bridges but they had been there once nonetheless, and they knew each other.

He cleared his throat, “Well… i-its sort of a l-long story.”

“I like stories.”

He found himself chuckling at her tone, and almost stopped himself, his heart warm and fuzzy feeling, a sharp enough contrast to his usual mood these days that he nearly shied away.

“…another t-time, I’ll t-tell you.”

“I’m holding you to that, you know.”

He leaned against the window, enthralled by the person next to him, burning with the same intensity as the stars she watched – one who could so easily control the emotional seasons of an Arrow.

“I-it’s a promise.”


End file.
